


Eyes Full of Life

by Marvelgirl4



Category: Aladdin (2019), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelgirl4/pseuds/Marvelgirl4
Summary: Nicky joined the crusades out of obligation. He'd been expecting to be of as much use as was required...he certainly wasn't expecting to find someone who offers him an even greater purpose in life.Jafar had submitted to his fate. His punishment was just and never-ending...or at least, it was never supposed to end. Someone unexpected offers him a different path...but is it one he truly deserves?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 59
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few things: first, for all my Catholic school learning, I know very little about the crusades. I welcome anyone who can give me information, but I probably won't make them a huge part of the story (though they're included in the beginning because they're part of the canon love story). Second, this will be slightly canon-divergent in terms of details. I haven't read all the Old Guard stories yet, so I'm mostly going by the Netflix film. Third, please please please do not hesitate to let me know if there's something grammar/spelling-wise I've gotten wrong. I'm always looking to improve my writing skills. 
> 
> That's my spiel! I'm not sure how long this gonna be (that'll probably be determined by interest) but I hope you all like it! Byyyyeee!!

Time passes differently when one spends it alone. 

Some days come and go so quickly, it’s like the sun never bothered to rise. 

Some refuse to end. They stretch on into mini-eternities; and every second seems to exist to remind the victim of all the ways a wasted life went wrong. 

Jafar never meant to waste his life. He’d always believed he was meant to do something important, be someone who mattered. 

But he learned all too quickly how hard it is to matter when nobody listens. 

He could acknowledge his faults; losing his mind from the frustrations, losing his temper, and by extension his freedom. He shouldn’t have dragged the girl into it. She’d been little more than an irritant. In a way, they’d wanted the same thing: a chance to show their worth. He blamed her, but he didn’t. He could understand her now, understand her hatred for him. Maybe he should have listened more. 

Okay. He absolutely should have listened more. 

Just as her father should have. 

It was a dangerous spiral Jafar found himself in: guilt, blame, self-pity, self-loathing, resentment toward himself, resentment toward others, and back to guilt again. 

And always, always wondering. 

What comes next? 

Jafar was no fool. He knew the pitfalls of his new…situation. One careless wish, made at the height of his anger and greed, had landed him in an inescapable prison. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to escape. What would be worse; spending eternity in the lamp, alone but unused, or finding himself at the mercy of someone who might prove to be just as ruthless as he’d been (or even more so?)

It wasn’t like he had a choice, now. He’d use all the cunning he had left to make the best of things, but he couldn’t outright say no. He had an understanding of the rules, but there were only three that were concrete. 

And honestly, did anyone ever really wish to bring the dead back to life? 

Jafar waited in his personal torment for whatever would come next. 

And he waited. 

And he waited. 

As each moment passed at its own leisure. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicolo had never been much of a wanderer. 

Before this whole mess had kicked off, he’d always thought he’d remain close to home; become a scholar. He’d stirred up enough trouble in his childhood to know he could handle himself in a fight, but he was sharp enough to avoid going out and looking for them. 

Or rather, he had been sharp enough. 

In the beginning, he’d managed to convince himself this wasn’t a fight. He was spreading Christianity; bringing the wayward back to God. Everyone had told him it was his obligation as a Christian. He’d be a hero; a testament to his religion. 

But the more blood that was spilled, the harder it became to cling to that belief. 

The people Nicolo met, the people he’d been taught and trained to despise, had a habit of surprising him. He would do what he was obligated to do as a soldier (he did, after all, have people he cared about back home who’d be made to pay for any transgressions) but he’d stopped finding joy in it. It was a job now; nothing more nothing less. Another necessity supposedly handed down from God to the ears of his superiors. 

But can they really know? He thought. Doesn’t Scripture warn against false prophets? 

Nicolo had these doubts more frequently these days. He missed home. He missed staring into eyes that didn’t fear him, eyes that held life and trust instead of dread and hatred. He missed feeling like there was a future outside of violence. Back home, he could be anyone he wanted to be. 

Here, where there was always another battle just around the corner, he felt like little more than a sword. 

At least he could take solace in these moments of quiet. The sun had gone down, and a stiff wind was blowing over the desert that surrounded him on all sides. He could hear his fellow crusaders in the camp behind him. They seemed so unburdened. Nicolo wondered if it all weighed on their consciences the same way it weighed on his. 

And on this night in particular, he wondered if they’d notice if he simply walked away. 

No, he reasoned, I can’t risk it. 

There were too many innocents back home; too much at stake. 

But if he simply walked for a while, and then came right back? 

If anyone got curious, he could just say he thought he saw an intruder. He’d heard a noise and done his due diligence. 

Nicolo found himself walking toward a series of low hills on the horizon. The night sky was so illuminated with stars that he could see his path just fine. He wouldn’t go far. Just a few feet. 

Alright, maybe a little further. 

Maybe just to the first few hills. 

Before he knew it, he was walking at an incline. 

Nicolo was a man of faith; but beyond that, he favored skepticism. For example, the idea that something was pulling him forward, egging him on as if to a predetermined destination, was frankly ridiculous. He knew he wasn’t looking for anything specific. He was out for a stroll, and he could turn around whenever he wanted to. 

But…did it look like something was buried over there? 

No, that was ludicrous…right? 

Except…it really looked like something was buried; just at the base of one of the hills, almost like it had slid down and the sand had rushed to conceal it. 

Nicolo found himself captivated by that seemingly-meaningless spot. Some part of his mind told him to start digging. It wasn’t just a want, it was growing into a need. So, without really understanding why, he knelt down and stuck his hands into the sand.

And pulled out an oil lamp. 

Nicolo had to admit, part of him was disappointed. Sure, the lamp looked more expensive than most, and he supposed a lamp was a handy thing to have on one’s person, but…it was just an oil lamp. From the way his curiosity had gotten the better of him, he’d expected something more exciting. 

Oh, and it was filthy of course; as all things which spend too much time in the ground often are. 

Nicolo rubbed some of the dirt off with his sleeve, and was considering simply reburying the lamp when something started…happening. 

As if possessed, the lamp began glowing. It felt as if it was growing warm, almost coming to life, and red smoke began emanating from its spout. Formless at first, the smoke began to take the shape…but that wasn’t possible…

the shape of a man. As great as a storm cloud, blood red, and…almost sad. 

If this was real (which Nicolo greatly doubted, as it was much more likely he was simply losing his mind) he wouldn’t expect such an imposing figure to look defeated. Angry, sure. Wrathful, definitely. 

The being’s voice, also, should have struck more fear in him than it did. The words were cowed, rehearsed, and oddly quiet; like whoever this was had been dreading saying them. 

“Oh Great One who summons me, Terrible One who commands me—“ 

“Hello.” 

Nicolo wasn’t sure why he’d greeted the being. He’d simply supposed it was the polite thing to do. If whoever this was didn’t want to say what he was saying, perhaps he shouldn’t be made to say them. 

The being faltered and started again. “Oh Great One—“ 

“You don’t have to say all that, actually.” 

The being seemed taken aback. 

“I didn’t mean to summon you.” Nicolo decided it was best to clear up any misunderstanding. 

“But you did summon me.” 

“I suppose I did. Do you…is there a way of un-summoning you?” 

The being gave this some thought. “Actually,” he replied, “I’d rather you didn’t.” 

He appeared to concentrate for a moment, and in a swirl of dust and fog, became a seemingly regular-sized man. Nicolo would have found this shocking, had he not only moments ago come out of an oil lamp. At this point, Nicolo realized he may never find anything surprising again. 

“Apologies,” the man from the lamp appeared sheepish, “I just haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while. I find I’ve forgotten how normal conversation starts.” 

“I think we’ve abandoned normal, my friend,” Nicolo smiled, “but usually they start with introductions. My name is Nicolo of Genoa.” 

“Jafar.” The man replied, “My name is Jafar.”


	2. Chapter 2

After the exchanging of names, silence fell between them. 

What does one say, after all, to the first face one’s seen in what feels like a lifetime? 

What does one say to a being who, for all intents and purposes, shouldn’t exist outside the pages of a fairy tale? 

Nicolo chose the obvious question first. “How did you get in that oil lamp?” 

“A series of bad decisions and then worse decisions.” Jafar replied, simply. 

“And the practiced speech?” 

“I’m not actually sure where that came from. It just…popped into my head one day. I couldn’t seem to forget it.” 

“And the shackles?” 

“Ah. That’s a bit…delicate to explain.” 

Nicolo had noticed them almost immediately; two heavy-looking metal shackles around Jafar’s wrists, and a curious lack of any chain to connect them. “Did someone put them on you? Or did you put them on yourself?” 

“Interesting question,” Jafar seemed genuinely bemused, “I guess both. I’m not the first genie, so they had to be created by something, but I sort of…accidentally wished for them.” 

This man was odd. Nicolo was starting to like him more and more. He couldn’t remember when the last time was that he’d had an interesting conversation, or any conversation for that matter that didn’t end in someone getting mutilated. 

That word…the memories it brought; too vivid and too recent. Nicolo’s mid drifted to the grim irony of his situation. He’d been taught to fight, he was good at it (great even), but the people he was meant to target never seemed to offer much opposition aside from screamed curses and thrown objects. They never quite matched the blood hungry monsters he’d been warned about. They weren’t villainous, they were just afraid. 

And Nicolo did nothing to put their fears to rest. 

He started to think perhaps the wrong man was wearing the shackles. 

“Are you still listening?” 

“Hm?” 

Nicolo came back to his senses and startled when he noticed Jafar had moved closer. Jafar, in turn, moved back a bit to give him space. “Sorry,” came his second apology of the night, “you just…you seemed to freeze for a moment. I got concerned.” 

“I’m alright,” Nicolo gathered himself, “just lost in thought.” 

“Does that happen a lot?” Jafar gestured to the armor Nicolo had long since forgotten he was wearing, “You’re a soldier, so I imagine you have a lot to think about.” 

“I’m not that kind of—“ Nicolo paused. 

How long had he been gone?? People were going to start looking for him! He had a suitable excuse ready for himself, but he hadn’t been counting on—  
“You need to hide.” 

Jafar’s brow furrowed. “Why?” 

Nicolo looked back in the direction of the camp. He could still see firelight and movement, but he couldn’t make out any voices. If anyone else was awake, his absence must have been noticed by now, and he didn’t have any orders to leave! Uncertainty, his worst enemy, crept up his spine. He could have hours before his comrades found him, or only seconds. He knew they wouldn’t stop to ask questions. They’d kill Jafar the second they saw him. 

Worse, though, they might leave him alive. 

“You went quiet again. Nicolo, what’s going on?” 

“The Holy Crusade,” Nicolo explained, “I’m here with the Holy Crusade.” 

“The what?” 

How…how did Jafar not know…

No time to wonder all that now. 

“They’re…we’re…killers, Jafar. We’re dangerous. I didn’t mean to be away from my camp this long. The others will wonder where I am.” 

Jafar seemed unbothered by this. “I can help.” 

“No, you can’t.” Nicolo marveled at the boldness in his tone, “Whatever you are, they won’t care. Please…if you can, get back in the lamp.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jafar had grown up with nothing but the dust on his feet and his parents at his back. They’d done their best to provide for him and keep their hardships a secret, but he’d always known. 

Some days, Jafar’s father would come home with treasures; extra food, scraps of fine cloth, things the family usually only saw in their dreams. Jafar always wondered why these gifts put his mother so on-edge. In his child mind, they’d just gotten lucky that day. She should celebrate. She was always telling him to find joy in the little moments. Why couldn’t she find joy in these? 

It wasn’t until he was older that he discovered the truth. The day Jafar’s father taught him to pick his first pocket was also the day he learned how much danger those “treasures” could bring down on all of them. 

It was a necessary risk, his father said, to keep away the sort of misery that erases the will to live. One should always strive for better, for more, for a higher station. 

Ambition. That was what Jafar’s father had drilled into him. Pure ambition.   
It was the same ambition that had led to his father being jailed; and the same which had driven Jafar to follow the path of a thief. 

He could still recall the look on his mother’s eyes the last time she’d helped him escape the guards. She didn’t want to send him away, wanted desperately to keep him close to her, but knew that wasn’t possible. 

If Jafar stretched his imagination just a bit, he could swear Nicolo’s eyes were the same as his mother’s; and that was enough to convince him how serious this was. He had no idea what the Holy Crusade was, but if one of their own was afraid of them, they couldn’t be very friendly. 

“This is my fault, I shouldn’t have gone snooping—“ 

If this was the last conversation they had, Jafar didn’t want it end with another apology. 

“Thank you,” he cut Nicolo off, “for the company.” 

Nicolo managed a smile, and Jafar thought idly that he’d keep that image in his memory forever. “Even if I was frozen half the time?” 

You could have never said a word, Jafar thought, and I’d still be eternally grateful. 

Back into the lamp he went; feeling curiously lighter this time. If he got the chance, if by some miracle Nicolo kept the lamp, he’d think of a few more interesting things for them to talk about next time.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicolo’s men found him shortly after he’d reburied the lamp. Thankfully, they swallowed his story about seeing an intruder. They’d even laughed when he “admitted” that it had only been a desert hare. It was a stupid mistake, anyone could have made it, no harm done. Certainly, there was no need to linger in the foothills and possibly notice the mound of disturbed sand nearby. 

By morning, when they were preparing to leave, Nicolo had almost convinced himself it had all been a dream. He hadn’t really spoken to a floating man who’d come out of an oil lamp. The heat had gotten to him. That was all. He could go about his business and forget the whole…

Oh, who was he kidding?! 

It would mean another excuse, a damn good one this time, but he had to go back. Just for a moment, just to see if it had all been real, Nicolo had to go back to the foothills. 

He wasn’t fleeing. He wasn’t a coward, but right now there was something more important. 

He was aware of people trying to stop him, ask him questions, get in his way. He recognized the faces and knew he should respond, and pushed forward anyway. 

“I left something in the hills,” he muttered offhandedly to one particularly curious officer, “I won’t be long.” 

Nicolo was, for once, grateful for his spotless service record. This may just be written off as an odd day. If he kept his nose clean otherwise, it would be forgotten. 

He wasn’t even holding them up. It was less than an hour’s walk to and from the spot where Jafar was—where he’d left the oil lamp. 

The lamp had been real. Nicolo was certain of that. He’d felt the metal in his hands. He remembered the weight. He wasn’t looking for a person. He was looking for an object. 

It was just the lamp that held his fascination. 

If Nicolo had to repeat that to himself a thousand times in order to make it true, then he would do so. 

Men like him, men of skepticism and logic, did not go chasing desert phantoms. 

He reached the spot sooner than he’d expected, and was more surprised to find that he was a bit winded. Had he jogged here? 

Nevermind. There was the mound, right where it had been last night; and within it—

The lamp gleamed in the daylight; almost blinding him. It seemed to be radiating its own energy. Nicolo thought he could feel the lamp pulsating with a heartbeat that matched his own. Once it was in his hands, he didn’t think twice before rubbing it. 

And just like the night before, he was greeted with red smoke. And a figure. and a voice which, today, was free of its prior sadness. 

“I was wondering when you’d come back for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter two! Don't worry, chapter three is coming soon (assuming you guys want it) 
> 
> I'm planning to turn this into a sort of "journey through the ages" for Nicky and Joe. I realized how much cool (and some not-so-cool) stuff they would be around for, and I really want to take advantage of that. 
> 
> There will be elements of hurt/comfort in future chapters. They both have issues they need to work through, so there will be bumps in the road. 
> 
> But I'm a sucker for a good happy ending, so you can count on that.


	3. Chapter 3

“I hope you didn’t get in too much trouble last night.” 

“No more than usual.” 

“Your scary friends didn’t hassle you?” 

“They’re not exactly my friends.” 

Jafar wasn’t used to things going well for him. He’d had one or two positive reactions with people back when he’d been fully human, but those hadn’t lasted long. The other person either lost interest, moved on, or found some irreconcilable fault with him. He had to admit, sometimes he even pushed them away on his own. 

Being seated at the right hand of the sultan had quickly gone to his head; and it wasn’t until he’d been reduced to three wishes and a handful of magic tricks that he’d remembered he wasn’t better than everyone else. It had taken a lifetime for Jafar to elevate himself…and one bad day to lose everything. 

The more Nicolo spoke, the more Jafar realized he didn’t want to lose this. At least…not yet. 

Once Nicolo learned what he could do, what he was expected to do, he’d see what happened. 

Jafar liked Nicolo well enough. 

He just didn’t trust him. 

“I’m leaving,” Nicolo explained, and Jafar began to listen closer, “and I’m not sure where we’ll be sent next, but I had to come back one last time.” 

“I’m honored.” If Jafar still had a pulse, he thought it would be racing right now. “People don’t usually bother saying goodbye.” 

“I was going to.” 

“You were going to?” 

Jafar had a gift for reading people. Nicolo hadn’t come here with a plan. He was making everything up on the spot. It was endearing to watch him struggle with piecing his thoughts together. He’d been so confident last night. Now, he appeared flustered. Jafar had never had that affect before. People had feared him, respected him, degraded him, despised him, but nobody had ever put effort into talking to him. 

“I think…if you want…I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but…” 

Too long. Jafar had been here (wherever here was) for too long. 

“Could I take you with me?” 

It was like a door slamming closed. Oh, so this was just another collector; a treasure seeker, like he himself had been. Nicolo had found something shiny in the desert and wanted to show it off. Classy. 

Jafar considered going back into his lamp and staying there until another disappointment came along. 

His irritation must have showed on his face, because Nicolo quickly corrected himself. “I’m sorry! That wasn’t the right way to phrase that! I just thought maybe you wanted to see more of the world.” 

He wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. 

“And I could keep you safe if you need me to; if that’s a concern.”   
One more try. 

Nicolo was getting frustrated. A small dark part of Jafar was pleased. “I just…don’t want to be alone anymore; and I think you don’t, either. If we stick together, we won’t be alone anymore.” 

…

Well. That was unexpected. 

Jafar had reacted prematurely, again. Maybe this wasn’t an act of greed. Judging by Nicolo’s panicked explanation, maybe he really was lonely; but how could someone be lonely when one was surrounded by soldiers all the time? 

Jafar knew how. 

It was the same way one could feel empty inside while surrounded by servants in an opulent palace. Something genuine was missing; something deeper and more meaningful than a passing familiarity. 

Jafar wondered if that could explain the lightness he’d felt last night. Nicolo had looked at him with no judgement, no expectation. Their brief time together had felt comfortable and the words had come so easily. It had been like seeing an old friend. Was that how Nicolo felt? 

There was one test to find out. 

“You know, I can grant wishes.” Jafar tried to tempt him. “You get three.” 

Nicolo looked confused. “Alright. Does that mean you want to come with me?” 

“Right here, right now,” Jafar pushed, “you could have anything you want.” 

“I want you to come with me.” 

“If you wished for it, I would have to.” 

“That’s abominable. Why would I do that?” 

Jafar had never fallen in love before. He thought this must be what the first stages of it felt like. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Why did Jafar look surprised? 

Why was he shocked that Nicolo was refusing to take advantage of him? Who was to blame for this, and where were they hiding?! 

And why was Nicolo suddenly acting so irrationally?! 

He’d only come here to see if the lamp was real. Once he’d held it, he should have left, but he didn’t. Once Jafar reappeared, he should have gotten to the point and said goodbye, but he didn’t. Once Jafar had inadvertently reminded him of the men waiting for him, he should have come to his senses and left. 

He hadn’t. 

And the real reason he’d come back here and poured out of him like a badly-kept secret. 

Nicolo didn’t want to leave Jafar behind. 

Some part of him knew last night had changed things. The ease of conversation, the relief from tediousness, the feeling like he’d met this man before; they’d all meant something. 

Nicolo had been up half the night trying to parse out exactly what. He’d had friends before, best friends, best friends who felt like family, and family members he would throw himself on his sword for; but this didn’t feel like any of those.

This felt infinitely stronger. 

Nicolo supposed that was why he still hadn’t left. If Jafar gave him a definite no, then he could leave. 

Jafar had said he could grant three wishes, like Nicolo cared about that. The idea was intriguing in so far as he wondered how that worked; however, Nicolo didn’t care. Jafar could be capable of granting a thousand wishes and it would mean nothing to him. 

Three wishes? Nicolo mused. Stay with me. Choose to stay with me. Don’t make me give up how I feel around you. 

To force Jafar to come with him? To enslave him like that, like he was nothing beyond what he could give? No. Never. 

Never. 

How meaningless would that make their time together? If Jafar followed because he was bidden, how cheap would that make each moment? 

“I’d advise you to use at least one, my friend.” Jafar interrupted Nicolo’s thoughts. “Traveling with a genie is a difficult thing to hide. The men you serve with will find out about me eventually.” 

Damnit, he was right. 

If Nicolo brought Jafar with him, a new bag of problems would be ripped open. Jafar could never leave his lamp. In his true form, he was impossible not to see. In his human form, he looked too much like the people the crusaders had been trained to hunt down. Nicolo couldn’t stay away from them forever. They’d track him down with ease, and he wouldn’t be the only person they tortured. His family, Jafar, anyone who had ever shown him kindness, everyone would be a target.   
The selfless thing would be to give this up. If he reburied the lamp as he had last night and walked away, he could go back to what he was: a dutiful soldier. An obedient Christian. Nicolo’s life would tick on with minimal interruptions. He might even be happy again, one day. All he had to do was settle. 

Nicolo loved his family. He loved his home. He knew he would miss all of it if he never saw it again. 

He also knew he had been sent into this crusade with the expectation that he may die. If he’d been killed in action, he might join the others who had been lauded for sacrificing their lives for their faith. 

So perhaps…perhaps he would use one of those wishes. His family would be glorified for bringing up such a brave son, and his comrades would mourn him for a day (or less) and then move on. 

“Before I use my wish,” Nicolo made up his mind, “I need an answer from you. Will you come with me? When I leave this desert, will you be by my side?” 

“Is that what you’re going to wish for?” 

“No. God no.” 

Jafar looked pleased. “Yes. Make your wish and I’ll leave the desert with you.” 

“And you can leave the lamp behind.” 

“And I can…what?” 

“I wish everyone who knew me believed I died in battle.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Sometimes, Jafar wished he could refuse to grant wishes. 

In times like this, when something so unimaginably reckless came out of a wish maker’s mouth, he craved the ability to shove the words back down their throats. 

Whatever this Holy Crusade was, it must be an absolute nightmare if Nicolo was willing to give up everything just to get away from it. 

Jafar couldn’t say no. 

Literally, he was forbidden from saying no; but also, if this meant they really could travel together and Nicolo could get away from what was clearly making him miserable…fine. 

The granting of the wish was a much quieter affair than Jafar’s own wishes had been. A stiff wind blew across the desert and caught a few loose strands of Nicolo’s hair. Once it passed, over them, peace settled. Nicolo straightened, almost like he was expecting to feel something.   
It was the absence of a something that he remarked on. 

“It’s like a weight’s been lifted off.” 

Jafar felt a pang of regret. He’d just removed Nicolo from the lives of anyone he’d ever known. He was dead to them now; seen only in memories. Nicolo would come to feel this regret, too. Jafar was certain of that. 

He hoped he’d be around to offer comfort, or reverse the wish one day if he could. 

For now, there was one final lingering question. “What did you mean,” Jafar asked, “about leaving the lamp behind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to explain Nicolo's decision as best as I could. You can disagree with what he did (I know I kinda do) but it was the best way to cut the ties that bind so they could move on together without anyone getting hurt. 
> 
> Next chapter will probably come Tuesday, since I go back to work tomorrow; but I'm committed to finishing this puppy! 
> 
> Hope you're all having fun!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time just because I didn't want to not post anything but today left me a little burnt out. I promise the next chapter will be longer and they will get out of the desert. 
> 
> I have plans, I swear! This lengthy build-up is leading somewhere cool! Especially if you're a history nerd like me.

The plan was frighteningly simple. Too simple. 

Truth be told, Nicolo didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a try. The lamp was just a vessel, right? So why couldn’t they just…walk away from it? Was there a trick he was missing? 

“In all my studies, I’ve never thought to ask.” Jafar seemed as unsure as Nicolo felt. “I always assumed the lamp held some sort of power, similar to the shackles.” 

“The lamp isn’t what grants the wishes, though.” Nicolo pointed out. “That’s all you.” 

“True. Here, let’s try it.” 

They took it one step at a time. Moving a few feet away didn’t seem to cause any problems. Covering the lamp wasn’t an issue, either. 

“Walk far enough away that you can’t see it.” Nicolo offered. 

Jafar obliged and walked until he was nearly out of sight, but then he froze. Nicolo waited for him to turn back around, but he didn’t. 

“Jafar,” Nicolo began to worry, “do you feel anything?” 

No answer. 

“Do you feel any pain?” 

He could have been calling to a statue for all the good it did. 

Nicolo grabbed the lamp and hurried to Jafar’s side. As if a spell had been broken, Jafar began to move again. He looked as though he’d been drowning. His breaths came in short gasps, and his face had gone ashen white. This was the face of a man in pain. 

It wasn’t a look Nicolo ever wanted to see again.   
“What happened?” He felt stupid asking. 

“Hard to explain…” Jafar met his eyes, “but…I don’t think walking away works.” 

He was cracking a joke. Unbelievable. 

“No,” Nicolo played along, “it certainly does not. I’m sorry.” 

Jafar offered him a weak smile. “One day we’ll stop apologizing to each other. It was worth a try, Nicolo; and I’m feeling better already. We’ll just have to keep that close.” His smile dropped as he looked down at the lamp. “Though, I’ll admit I was looking forward to throwing it into the sea.” 

Nicolo had hoped to leave Jafar’s little prison behind when they started their adventure. It would just have to burn a hole in his pocket until that became a reality. For now, he wasn’t about to let it hold them back. There was too much world waiting for them. 

Jafar seemed to read his mind. “Come. We have a long way to go.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jafar hadn’t had much presence of mind when he’d first been trapped in the lamp. He’d known what was happening, what it meant, and why, and then he’d lost consciousness; for how long, he had no idea. 

He’d come to surrounded by nothingness. He’d felt weightless and held down, trapped and exposed, in pain and numb all at once. 

Time and space meant nothing in the lamp. 

He’d been let out once before; by a man as brainless as he had been greedy. The wishes went by quickly (a mountain of gold, a ruby the size of his fist, and a diamond the size of his heart) and were surprisingly easy to twist into misfortunes. It was hard to enjoy one’s gold and jewels when one’s heart had been turned to pure diamond. That fleeting amusement had kept Jafar’s spirits up for a while; and then the guilt set in. 

He considered part of the lamp’s justice against him. He’d been blind to guilt in his human life, so he’d spend eternity face to face with it. 

He meant it when he told Nicolo he wanted to hurl the lamp into the sea. He didn’t want it anymore. It had done its job, he wasn’t that person anymore, and now it got to tag along while he lived a life he wanted to pretend he deserved. 

He may just slip and tell Nicolo to wish him free. Nicolo would do it, Jafar thought. He’d feel obligated to do it. 

Nicolo might need his last two wishes. That stopped Jafar from saying anything. The world was a dangerous place for someone so fueled by compassion. Nicolo needed a trick up his sleeve. 

Jafar’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of falling metal and the fact that Nicolo was now wearing less than he had been before. He was still fully clothed, but seeing him out of his chainmail felt like a very large step in their getting to know each other. 

How had he managed to shed his armor without slowing down? 

“What?” 

Jafar ceased staring. “Nothing. What are you doing?” 

“I think I’d stand out just a little too much if I went around dressed as a soldier, don’t you?” 

“Oh.” Jafar took inventory of his own attire. “Do I stand out?” 

“No.” Nicolo definitely chose his next words on purpose. “You’re perfect.” 

He liked to poke fun. Alright, Jafar valued a sense of humor (especially if they were going to be spending a lot of time together), but he didn’t care for being made fun of. He was a grown man, he wouldn’t sulk or anything. 

He couldn’t promise that wouldn’t start hurting his feelings, though. 

“How much did you travel before?” Nicolo asked. 

“Not a lot,” Jafar admitted, “mostly back and forth between Agrabah and Sherabad. Did they ever go to war, by the way?” 

“No. They almost did, but Agrabah’s sultan kept the peace.” 

“The old man?” He just had to know.

“A woman, actually.” 

The princess had managed after all. Good girl. 

Jafar tried to gather more information about Nicolo’s background without asking. He didn’t want to pry, he was simply curious. Fair skin and light hair were a rarity in this climate, and the accent was unfamiliar. Nicolo held himself very straight and kept his pace even. These attributes could, no doubt, be thanks to his military training. The smile, though, and that quick wit he tried to keep to himself…all that either came from a wonderful family who fostered it or in spite of a cruel one who would try to destroy it. 

“What was your family like?” Jafar asked. 

“They were simple,” Nicolo replied, “and kind. They kept to themselves. I was counted as the boldest for joining the crusade. They worried, but they didn’t try to stop me. My parents especially put their faith in God to keep me safe; but they’ll be proud of my sacrifice.” 

“Won’t they miss you?”   
“Terribly. Then, my mother will brag about her son the war hero. My father will use me to push my brothers into greatness. I should thank you.” Nicolo winked at Jafar. “You guaranteed me a flawless legacy. Your turn.” 

“My turn?” 

“Tell me about your family.” 

Oh, he really didn’t want to. Where Jafar came from, one’s background was everything. He’d worked for years to shed the label of street rat. Dredging up the past now felt like taking it up again. “There’s nothing to tell. I had a mother and father, and then one day I didn’t.” 

Nicolo stopped and locked eyes with him. Nothing was spoken, but the intent was clear. This was a challenge: be honest now. Whatever they were building wouldn’t last long if secrets were kept. 

The strength that gaze, those eyes so like a hawk’s as it dove for prey, mad Jafar very badly want to go back into the lamp. 

He was tired of hiding. 

“My father was a thief.” Jafar started to feel the invisible weights of his childhood slipping off. “He taught me to be a thief. One day, the guards came, he left with them, and never came back. When they came for me, I ran. A few years later, I got a position as a servant in the palace; then I became vizier.” 

Nicolo’s gaze wavered. “That sounds like a difficult life.” 

It didn’t feel so difficult anymore. Talking about it took some of the sting away. “Sometimes it was more than I could handle,” Jafar tried straightening his posture to match Nicolo’s, “but I survived it. It led me here.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: there is some kinda graphic discussion of exactly what Nicky did in the crusades. It's nothing R-rated, but if hearing about people in distress turns your stomach, skip the description of his nightmare.

The journey out of the desert was much more enjoyable than when Nicolo had first set foot in it. Even when they passed his old camp and saw the remnants of the life he’d once been part of, scattered supplies, abandoned fires still vaguely smouldering, and footprints too numerous to count, he felt only a passing nostalgia. That side of him, with all its solitude and uncertainty, already felt like the distant past. 

Jafar pointed to one trail of footprints all going in the same direction. “We could follow them,” he offered, “if you want to say goodbye to any of them.” 

Nicolo’s fellow crusaders had been cordial with him. He’d formed a bit of a bond with a handful of them (it was impossible not to, given what they’d experienced together); but he had no urge to say formal goodbyes. He’d been pragmatic enough not to get too close. When the number of men one served with got smaller and smaller with each passing day, one became all too familiar with mortality. 

What good was a close friend when he might be dead the next day? 

“I followed them out of Genoa and into lands where we were seen as monsters.” His voice was cold and stern. “I would have followed them further if I didn’t have a choice, but I do.” Nicolo tried to lighten his tone. “We have better things to do now.” 

They reached a little village by dusk. As expected, the sudden appearance of two strangers (one of whom showed clear signs of being in the elements for a while) prompted suspicion from the locals. They had no doubt heard about the horror of the crusades, and Nicolo hoped they hadn’t experienced any of it first-hand. He didn’t remember being here, but his regiment was hardly the only one in this area. 

The air was thick with a heaviness that had nothing to do with the lingering heat. 

Most of the poeople they crossed paths with hurried out of the way. Some huddled together and whispered to each other; plans, most likely, of how to protect their homes and their loved ones. Though Nicolo and Jafar were only two, and neither was armed, they may still present a threat. What did they want? What would they take? Who was coming behind them? 

“We should keep moving.” Nicolo murmered. “They’re afraid. We shouldn’t—“ 

“I’ll handle it.” Jafar answered. “Wait here.” 

“Wait—what?” 

Jafar left him standing in the middle of the narrow road and approached a startled-looking woman and her child. They spoke quietly, and the woman began to relax. At one point, Jafar turned and pointed to Nicolo. Whatever he said about him must have been an incredible comfort to the young mother, because she waved Nicolo over immediately. 

“She’s offered us shelter for the night.” Jafar looked immensely pleased with himself. “Say thank you. I’ll translate.” 

“Thank…you?” Nicolo wasn’t sure what was happening, and Jafar mocking his perplexed tone while translating wasn’t helping matters. The woman called out to her neighbors, and the tension in the air began to dissipate. 

It wasn’t completely gone, but Nicolo and Jafar might be able to stay through the night without incident. 

Later, as they were preparing to fall asleep, Nicolo asked: “What did you tell that woman about me?” 

He hadn’t thought it possible, but Jafar seemed to blush. “Nothing important.” 

“No, I want to know. What did you say?” 

“She was afraid that you were a crusader.” Jafar explained, sounding bashful. “I told her you were a great warrior. You travel the world protecting innocents.”   
An ache snuck its way into Nicolo’s heart. That couldn’t be further from the truth. “What did you say about yourself?” 

“Oh,” and the confidence he recognized was back, “I’m the same as you.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jafar learned that night that genies don’t need sleep. He lay awake for hours, waiting for exhaustion or even mild fatigue, but he was as awake and alert as he had been that morning. It was a small privilege among a tower of frustrations. 

It also meant he got to watch Nicolo sleep. 

He looked young. He looked vulnerable. 

Jafar wondered how old Nicolo was. They hadn’t discussed ages yet, but he looked no older than thirty. How old had he been when he joined the crusade? Had he been able to live a full life first? Had he ever seen the ocean? 

Jafar would make sure Nicolo saw the ocean. Their time together couldn’t last forever, nothing could. In the time they had, he’d fill Nicolo’s life with as much wonder as possible. This might even be a new penance for him. He’d spent so much time lording his position over those less fortunate and depriving their lives of enjoyment. Now, he could give some back. 

Speaking of enjoyment, Jafar wanted badly to see the stars as he remembered them from his childhood. 

Another small privilege? The ceiling above him filled with stars in the blink of an eye. Some people stopped to smell the roses. 

Jafar had always stopped to look for shapes like the ones his mother had taught him. It felt like cheating now, since he could form them from his own imagination, but seeing them come together now felt like reuniting with his old friends. The bear had always been his favorite, and the great winged horse. 

Jafar didn’t care much for the serpent. Snakes never meant anything good in his opinion. 

Nicolo’s breathing caught a bit. Jafar hoped he wasn’t getting sick. 

The good news was, he wasn’t. 

The bad news was Jafar didn’t know how to help when it came to nightmares. 

He tried to remember what his mother had done to comfort him. She hadn’t been the most affectionate woman, but she’d understood that no man could fight his subconscious and win. Usually, Jafar woke to her hand on his forehead. This, he decided, wasn’t the best way to wake a sleeping soldier. Nicolo may sound small and frightened at the moment, but the muscles in his arms suggested he could break bone like it was porcelain. 

Jafar wasn’t interested in learning if his arm could still be forced out of its socket.

“Nicolo,” Jafar nudged him, “wake up.” 

That earned him nothing but an incredibly frightening snarl. Jafar wondered if Nicolo had looked that terrifying in battle. He didn’t doubt it. 

Still, he tried a second time. 

“Nicolo, the stars are out. Look!” 

Nicolo opened his eyes. The stress and fear lingered on his face as he struggled back to reality. Finally, he remembered where he was. “Jafar?” He’d sound cute if Jafar wasn’t still worried about him. “What do you mean the stars are out?” 

“You were having a night terror, my friend. I wanted to give you something pleasant to wake up to.” 

Nicolo noticed the mock-night sky above them. The last of his anxiety melted into awe. “Did you do this?” 

Jafar pretended to be annoyed. “No, I got another genie to do it but he already left.” 

“You made this.” 

“Yes. I made it. I’ll admit it was just for my own pleasure at first, but then…well, things like this are only made better when you can share them with someone who needs them.” 

Nicolo didn’t say anything for a long time. His expression was unreadable, but he seemed transfixed. Jafar hoped he liked it. He wanted Nicolo to find comfort in the stars the way he always had. When they parted ways, Nicolo could take that with him; and Jafar would have done some lasting good. 

The tears, then, were a very bad sign. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicolo had had terrible dreams almost every night since he’d left home. The brutality he’d been forced to partake in had carved a niche in his mind. He could hardly close his eyes without seeing a village set aflame, people screaming for mercy they’d never receive, and so much death. He knew the nightmares were common. He’d heard his comrades complaining about them. He’d just wished he could find some escape from them. 

Tonight should have been no different. He’d drifted off and been thrust into another ghastly memory. A wife had come to him asking about her husband. Nicolo knew the man wasn’t coming back, but he didn’t have the heart, or the ability, to say that. 

His superiors had made it clear that he didn’t need to speak the language. His role wasn’t diplomacy. It was intimidation and enforcement.   
Despite the language barrier, Nicolo knew what she wanted. He knew what they always wanted. 

In his nightmares, they always died in his arms. He never raised his sword to them, and yet he knew he’d killed them; not with anything he’d done, but with his callousness. 

In the morning, he would have to bury his regret down deep enough to move on to the next location. Nothing could be seen to phase him. 

It was Nicolo’s burden to bear: pretending a part of his soul didn’t wither every time he received orders to move out. 

This time, someone pulled him out. This time, he didn’t wake to blistering heat and the sun in his eyes. 

“Nicolo, the stars are out. Look!” 

A voice as gentle as a breeze cut through Nicolo’s bad dream like a sharpened blade. The haunting images, the screams, and the blood all vanished. A calm settled over him, comforting him like a well-loved blanket. 

The stars were a nice, if initially confusing, touch. They reminded him of how little time he’d spent just sitting quietly. 

They were so beautiful that Nicolo began to feel overwhelmed. 

“Do you not like them?” 

Nicolo blinked back the tears he hadn’t realized were gathering. “No,” he breathed, “I love them. They’re exactly what I needed.” 

“Why are you crying?” Jafar asked. “Was it the nightmare? Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No!” 

Nicolo hadn’t meant to snap. He couldn’t talk about it. He could never talk about it. He knew he was being dishonest, but if Jafar knew the details of who he’d been, what he hadn’t bothered to stop…he’d never look at Nicolo again the way he was now. They wouldn’t be able to maintain whatever this was. 

Jafar would be as disgusted with Nicolo as he was with himself. 

“You’re afraid like I was.” 

No. Nicolo was terrified. 

Jafar continued his assault on Nicolo’s resolve. “I didn’t want to share my past with you, Nicolo. I was afraid of how you’d see me if you knew how I was raised. You know where I come from, now. Does the truth change anything?” 

“Of course it doesn’t. Our pasts aren’t comparable. You were just trying to survive!” 

“What were you doing? Weren’t you following orders?” 

Nicolo should have known Jafar wouldn’t drop it. “Yes, I was following orders.” 

“What would happen if you didn’t?” 

“If I didn’t…” 

Nicolo shuddered. He had heard stories of those who tried to abandon the crusade. They came home to find carnage. Some family members were never seen again. Some were seen days later. Fear for his parents had kept Nicolo in line. When there had been the possibility of seeing them again, of finishing this brutal work and going home, he had stayed because he knew that was the only way to protect them. He never worried about himself. He was strong, he could take whatever abuse he had to…but his mother… 

“If I didn’t,” Nicolo finished, “they would have taken everyone from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a sucker for one person comforting the other after a bad dream! I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter that'll have anything to do with the crusades, I promise. Starting in the next chapter, we'll deal with Jafar's loose ends (because we're GOING TO AGRABAH BABYYYY), and then we'll start to see more Old Guard canon kicking in. I'm tackling this story in stages so I don't miss any golden opportunities.

Their journey continued in this way for some time. It was easier to blend in in the larger cities, but those proved to be few and far between on the path Jafar and Nicolo had chosen. This was for the best, since larger crowds meant more risk that Nicolo would be recognized; however, it meant they had to be thrifty with the few supplies they’d collected. Jafar had helpfully pointed out that he was, as he put it, “currently above trivial human needs,” and while the quip had brought Nicolo’s spirits up in a low moment, he still felt a little guilty; like he was hoarding everything. 

Jafar guessed Nicolo had siblings, since sharing came so easily to him. 

“I can’t imagine you as a soldier.” He mentioned once. “You seem like more of a care giver.” 

“You have yet to see me angry.” Nicolo countered. “I’ve been told I have a temper like a Summer storm.” 

It wasn’t until they reached a quiet port city that Jafar got to see the storm for himself. 

Jafar and Nicolo had done well in avoiding any other crusaders until this point. They’d traveled unusual hours, stuck to largely unbeaten paths, and sworn anyone who was kind enough to help them to absolute secrecy. They had suspected, though, that things would get tricky once they reached the coast. Nicolo’s regiment had traveled over land, but the larger armies and the Christian clerics had been granted ships. 

Nicolo found himself trying very hard not to stare at one right now. 

It was an ugly, gaudy thing; built to be noticed. It was also a transport galley, so it would undoubtedly be returning to its home port with more…passengers…then it had left with. 

He wanted to pull it apart. 

Nicolo imagined himself pulling the vessel to pieces with his bare hands; tossing each board into the sea until the whole thing sank beneath him. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

An old man in clothing as flashy as his boat approached. Nicolo leaned back enough to tap Jafar’s foot as a warning; a gesture they had practiced enough times that they had it down perfectly. Jafar ducked his head and used two fingers to catch Nicolo’s sleeve. 

“What’s it for?” Nicolo played dumb. 

“What’s it for?” Perhaps he’d played a little too dumb. The man was all too willing to explain. “It’s for the Lord’s work. We’re cleansing this land of the heretics and liars that infect it.” 

Nicolo wondered if everyone this crusade had put in power had memorized the same speech. The words were certainly the same, even if the order they were said in differed. Had Pope Urban II, the man who had ordered all this chaos, sent out an edict? 

“It’s a very large boat.” Nicolo couldn’t resist the slight. To his satisfaction, the man’s upper lip curled. “Why do you need all that space? There are so many soldiers here already.” 

“Never enough, my boy. The more brave souls who are willing to sacrifice themselves for the glory of God, the better.”

“I imagine also that the space comes in handy for transporting prisoners.” 

Most people who encountered the crusaders were cut down where they stood, but the bravest of them, the ones who continued to fight back, were often captured for further…well, those in power liked to call it examination. 

The man chuckled, and Nicole felt his face growing hot. “You’re a clever man. What did you say your name was?” 

“I didn’t.” Nicolo pulled his sleeve out of Jafar’s hold, took a deep breath, and drove his fist into the man’s throat. Before his target could cause a scene, Nicolo grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed a thumb into the space where the back of the man’s jaw met his neck. 

“What are you doing?” Jafar sounded stunned. Nicolo ignored him. 

“Do you feel where my thumb is right now?” He whispered as the man struggled helplessly. “I’ve found that one cut there produces enough blood to kill a man in minutes. If you turn around and go home to your family now, you’ll live out the rest of your pathetic natural life. If you don’t, I’ll find you, in some quiet corner where you think you’re safe, and I will ensure you feel every measure of the terror your crusade has inflicted on others. Do we understand each other?” 

He applied more and more pressure until the man nodded, then let him go and watched him scurry back to his ship.   
Nicolo could feel Jafar’s eyes on him for the rest of the day, but he couldn’t bring himself to return the gaze. They found passage across the sea with a fisherman, and in exchange they assisted as his crew. The work was a welcome excuse. 

If Nicolo kept busy, he wouldn’t have to see how disappointed his only friend was. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Right. There was the soldier. 

Jafar had thought the nickname “Summer storm” may have been given to Nicolo in jest. He’d thought wrong. 

He couldn’t bring himself to be angry for the sudden display of rage. The way that man spoke, his whole demeanor invited conflict. Jafar had been preparing to deal his own brand of justice, having deemed exposing his true nature as a necessary step if it meant shutting this dullard up. Nicolo had moved before he could, and the punch to the throat had been so swift he could have missed it if he’d blinked. Then, with a whisper and a shove, the man had been sent scurrying for cover like a true coward. 

For every bigot they encountered, there was someone like the kind fisherman who had made space for them on his boat. Nicolo had gone quiet after the fight, so Jafar had handled the arrangements. They would help the fisherman where they could, and he would take them across to his next port of call; no questions asked. 

Night fell while they were still at sea. The fisherman dropped anchor, pointed out spaces where they could sleep, then disappeared below deck. The air was peaceful, and colder than Jafar had ever felt it. There was a crisp edge to the breeze, which made everything feel ethereal and calm. 

There were more stars. Real ones this time. 

Jafar couldn’t recognize the shapes they made. He was content just to stare up at them. 

Nicolo was staring, too. He didn’t really seem to be seeing them, though. 

“You’re doing it again.” Jafar called to him. 

Nicolo stepped away from the railing he’d been leaning on. “Doing what?” 

“Getting lost in your own mind.” 

“I’m just thinking, Jafar.” 

They had been companions for a few weeks, now. Until the fight, Nicolo had been becoming less and less burdened by his time in the crusades. After Jafar had shown him the reality that he’d been coerced and threatened into obedience, that it wasn’t Nicolo’s job to bear the full responsibility of what had happened, he’d been able to hold his head just a little higher. He let Jafar stand closer to him. He opened himself up to the belief that he deserved a chance at a new life. 

This Nicolo, this figure silhouetted against an inky black sky, who said his name with a sharpness Jafar recalled only the sultan using before, wasn’t the same person who had greeted him with a chipper “hello” when they’d first met. 

“Nicolo, come here.” Jafar sat on the deck and gestured beside him. 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m asking you to, and I have something important to say, and you won’t be able to hear it over there.” 

Nicolo rolled his eyes and sat down. “There,” he said. “Now what’s so important?” 

“We need new names.” 

“We do not need new names.” 

“Fine. You need a new name.” 

The edge of Nicolo’s mouth twitched. “Why do I need a new name?” 

“Well,” Jafar explained, “this is supposed to be the start of your new life; and yet you seem trapped by the old one. Nicolo is a soldier. He’s a fighter of gaudy fools in bad clothing, and a protector of the innocent. That’s only one side of you. Nicolo didn’t come back for me in the desert.” 

Nicolo’s rigid posture melted away. “Who came for you, then?” 

There he was. Jafar knew he’d see that man again. “Nicky came for me.” He answered. 

There was silence. Then, there was laughter. Jafar could have lived off the joy Nicky’s laughter sparked in him. 

“Here I thought,” Jafar both loved and hated the teasing in his friend’s voice, “you’d be a little more creative than that!” 

“Hey, I actually gave that a fair bit of thought!” 

Jafar shoved Nicky’s shoulder playfully. The laughter died down, and Nicky’s expression became thoughtful. “Why are you doing all this?” He asked. “Why are you going out of your way to help me?” 

The answer was brutally honest. “You have such a limited time on this Earth.” Jafar finally came clean. “I may live for hundreds or thousands of years to come. If I can give you a beautiful life, then you’ll have a way to remember me when you’re…” this part always hurt to think about, but it was agonizing to say, “when you’re ready to be rid of me.”   
——————————————————————————————————————————

Be rid of him? 

Be rid of him?! 

“Oh.” 

It had only been a few weeks, Nicolo reminded himself. They had made no promises to each other. 

He should have reminded himself sooner that Jafar may see this as only a temporary partnership. He was tethered to the lamp Nicolo kept tucked away in a hidden pocket of his shirt. Once they figured out how to break that connection, Jafar would most likely want the chance to go off by himself. 

Nicolo would let him go. It was the honorable and selfless thing to do. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” 

There he went again, clueing into Nicolo’s thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.” 

What had he said? One day they would stop apologizing to each other. 

Nicolo pulled out the lamp and examined it. Jafar reached out and ran his fingers over the metal, brushing Nicolo’s hand. Neither of them had expected this conversation to happen now. 

Now suddenly felt like the perfect time. 

“You don’t want to leave,” Nicky mused, “and I don’t want you to go. So why are we talking like we don’t have a choice?” 

He leaned over and whispered something into Jafar’s ear. Jafar pulled back and exclaimed, “Nicky, no!! What if—“ 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Of course I want you to, but what if you need—“ 

Nicky placed a hand on the back of Jafar’s head. “You gave me the stars.” He felt his heart going a mile a minute, “You gave me my second chance. It’s time for yours. I wish to set you free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so uh....how do you guys feel about a little mock-poll in a few chapters? I want something big to happen, but it could happen to either Joe OR Nicky, and when the time is right, I may ask you to let me know who'd you would rather see in the scenario. It's nothing r-rated, I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of a few darker chapters. Nobody's getting traumatized, but it's time for SOMEBODY to pay the piper.

Gaining his freedom felt like standing in the first rainstorm after a drought.   
It happened before Jafar had a chance to process it. Something left him, and something else rushed in to take its place. The sensation was jarring, frightening, and so very welcome. He had felt cold earlier, but now he was freezing. He had often thought he should be tired, and he was finally exhausted. 

He had never thought he’d be so elated to be human! 

It felt awful and wonderful all at once. Jafar couldn’t wait to go to sleep and wake up in the morning. He’d forgotten what it felt like to struggle to open one’s eyes. From watching Nicky, he could tell it wasn’t pleasant. He knew sunburns would be a reality now, and needing to eat every once in a while. He could bleed and bruise again, and he would age. 

That was why Nicky had done this, Jafar reminded himself, so they could stay together. 

“Well?” Nicky prompted, “How do you feel?” 

“I feel amazing…” 

Then came the part Jafar had forgotten about. Becoming aware of the lack of weight on his wrists, he looked down and almost cried. The shackles were gone. He hadn’t felt them fall off, hadn’t heard a clang. They had simply vanished; as if they’d never held him prisoner at all. 

“Nicky.” Jafar held up his hand. “No more chains.” 

“We’re done with this, then.” Nicky handed him the lamp. 

Jafar stood, ready to heave the damned thing into the depths, when he suddenly hesitated. This was the end of an era for him. Once this lamp left his hands, it really was over. Not just his time as a genie, but the years he had spent as a human trying to claim the lamp’s magic for himself. This was a turning point. It deserved a little more ceremony. 

Nicky stood up and joined him at the railing. “Is something wrong?” He asked. 

Jafar handed him the lamp. “You do it. It’ll mean more if you do it.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“There was a time when I would have cut down anyone who tried to take the lamp from me. Now, I’m giving it away.” Jafar pointed to a spot on the horizon “Aim there. You’ll get more distance if you have a focal point.” 

Nicky took a few steps back, fixed his gaze, and threw as hard as he could. Now nothing more than pretty metal, the lamp flew through the air like a shooting star. The sound it made as it hit the water was an underwhelming plonk. Something that had caused so much trouble, Jafar thought, should have made a much bigger splash. 

He hoped his old life would be disposed of just as easily. 

——————————————————————————————————————————   
Nicky couldn't resist jostling Jafar awake the next morning. Admittedly, he could have been gentler; but this was Jafar’s first time waking up as a human, and he should experience it in all its uncomfortable glory. 

“Good morning!” Nicky beamed as his friend slowly regained consciousness, “We’re docking soon. It’s time to start the day!” 

“Have a little mercy,” Jafar mumbled, “I’m new to this.” 

“Not much fun, is it?” Nicky helped him to his feet. “You’ll get used to it quickly enough.” 

Once he was sure Jafar wouldn’t fall over, Nicky turned his attention to the port the fishing boat was approaching. The metropolis the port was connected to teemed with life. He could see its vibrancy even from this distance. Looming over all was a grand palace, larger than any Nicky had ever seen; in his dreams or otherwise. After so long in the desert, seeing nothing more than low buildings with simple architecture and practical features, this place looked like paradise. If it were a painting, it would be a masterpiece. 

Nicky approached the fisherman, who was hard at work at the boat’s wheel. “I wanted to thank you,” he greeted, “for all your help yesterday. My companion and I are indebted to you.”

“It was nothing.” The fisherman replied. “Had we hit bad weather, I would have been thankful for the extra sets of hands.” 

“It’s not everyone who would help two strangers, let alone in times like these.” 

“If you want to repay me,” the man kept his attention on where he was going, “remember this. The times don’t matter. What matters is what you choose to do in them.” 

Nicky took his words to heart. “Where are we, by the way?” 

“Agrabah. Good for trade and business.” 

“Do you suppose the sultan would be willing to help us?” Nicky glanced toward Jafar, who was still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. 

The fisherman thought for a moment. “This one would. She takes after her father.” 

They should speak to her, then. After all, who knew more about the world than one of its leaders? 

Nicky returned to Jafar, starting to feel the rush of last night’s events coming back. He looked exactly the same and yet his energy was different. It could be that they were finally on the same page. Jafar was (hopefully) as ecstatic about staying together as Nicky was. The uncertainty was gone. They were free to become whatever they were destined to be for each other. 

“How are you after last night?” Nicky meant it both ways: after Jafar had finally gotten to sleep again, and after they’d made the first real promise not to leave each other. 

“I’m content.” Jafar sighed. “I’m looking forward for the first time. I—“ 

His eyes locked on something over Nicky’s shoulder.

Nicky turned and realized Jafar was seeing Agrabah for the first time. “Isn’t it amazing?” he tried to coax out some sort of reaction, as Jafar had fallen uncharacteristically silent. “It’s called—“ 

“I know what it’s called.” 

That tone sent ice through Nicky’s veins. What was the matter? Jafar wasn’t the worrier, he was the optimist. His jaw tensed and his eyes grew strangely dark as he jerked his head away, like he was forcing himself not to look anymore. 

“You’ve been here before.” Nicky guessed. “This is where you grew up. Didn’t you miss it at all?” 

“No,” Jafar snapped, “I didn’t miss it.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky hadn’t known where the fisherman was going. 

It wasn’t his fault, or even the fisherman’s fault. Ignorance all around had led them here, and now Jafar had to face…everything. 

Worse, he’d have to face it while being weaker than he had been in decades. He had no magic, no tricks outside of what he remembered from his childhood, and no idea of what was in store for him once he and Nicky stepped foot on dry land. 

If they tried to hurt Nicky…if they treated him like a criminal just for associating with Jafar…

Every part of Jafar wanted to grab the fisherman by the throat and force him to turn the boat around. He could be intimidating enough. He remembered how to exude strength even when he was physically outmatched. The man was on the older side and nothing more than a fish monger. He wasn’t a threat. He could be made to comply. 

No, no, no!! 

Jafar had to be better than that now! He wanted to be better than that now! 

What good would being better do? A part of his brain which had been dormant for a very long time spoke up. Morals never got one very far in life. Besides, Nicky would learn what kind of man Jafar truly was soon enough. Why not rip off the mask early? 

Because Nicky didn’t want him to go. Nicky hadn’t set him free just so he could return to who he’d been. 

Nicky might forgive him. This didn’t have to be the end. 

“What happened?”   
Jafar’s heart could have snapped in two from the compassion in Nicky’s voice. 

“I…Nicky, people got hurt here because of me.” 

“Jafar, I understand.” No, Jafar thought, you don’t. “You know what I was forced to do in the crusades.” 

“Nobody forced me!” He exclaimed. “I was a monster, Nicolo!!” 

The name rang out like a shot. Nicky took a moment to compose himself before speaking again. “Whatever you were, whatever you did, we’ll deal with it.” He sounded so sure that it would be that simple. “We’ll fix whatever we need to, you’ll make amends with whomever you’ve hurt, and then we’ll move on.” 

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“The sultan. Nicky, I hurt her. I wish it was as simple as making amends, but I don’t think what I did can ever truly be forgiven.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, I know. I'm sorry. I had to make sure this chapter lived up to the build-up. I think it does, now. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> BTW Jafar gets beaten up and there are sensory descriptions of blood, so if that grosses you out you can absolutely skip it. It's toward the end. Look for the line "it gave him something new to focus on" and scroll until the word Stop. I'll update the warnings accordingly.

It didn’t take long for them to be detained. 

That was the difference, Nicky considered, between being notorious as part of a group and being notorious on one’s own merit (or lack thereof). 

They weren’t separated right away. There was some comfort in that. 

“When you say you hurt the sultan,” Nicky spoke quietly as he and Jafar were herded along by a frankly alarming number of guards, “what exactly did you do?” 

“Remember those decisions I mentioned when we first met?” 

“Oh no.” 

“Before you make assumptions, it wasn’t that.” Jafar paused. “I tried to depose her father.” 

Nicky took this in. “Alright, I can see why they’re angry then.” 

“And I tried to marry her.” 

“That’s…worse.” 

“And I set an enchanted giant parrot loose on the citizens.” 

“Ah. Anything else?” 

“Aside from being generally unlikable?” Jafar thought for a moment. “No, that’s all I can come up with.” 

It was as hard for Nicky to picture Jafar doing what he said as it had been for Jafar to picture him as a soldier. Deposing a ruler was one thing. Sometimes, a regime change necessary; if one’s sovereign was a brute, or an idiot. Forcing someone into marriage was another issue entirely. 

As for the parrot, Nicky found that he didn’t have enough context to judge why and how Jafar could make such a thing happen. Surely he hadn’t been a genie yet. If he had been, wouldn’t his first two endeavors have been successful? 

“Was it a real parrot?” Nicky had to know. 

“We’re being brought to our possible deaths,” Jafar responded incredulously, “and that’s what you want to know?” 

“If I’m going to die, I’d like to know before then.” 

“I’ll let you draw your own conclusion.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

The palace was twice as large up close. Its doors yawned open like the mouth of a cave, revealing a grand hall dominated by an impossibly wide staircase which led to a raised platform. Two figures stood waiting for them: a young man, dressed simply and trying a bit too hard to look intimidating, and a woman whose power radiated out to feel every corner of the room. Nicky was surprised the windows weren’t shaking. 

Oh, he noticed, no glass. 

What an odd thing to notice when one was in the presence of the sultan; though, to be fair, he was trying not to look at the tiger. 

One of the guards who had brought Nicky and Jafar in approached the sultan and whispered something to her. Her eyes flicked first to the guard, then Nicky, then they settled on Jafar. If there had been any softness to her features, they instantly hardened into stone. 

The young man spoke up first. This, in Nicky’s opinion, wasn’t the smartest idea. He sounded inexperienced. The smirk on Jafar’s face said he agreed. 

“Where were they apprehended?” 

“By the docks, your Grace.” Another guard replied. “We didn’t see which vessel they came in on.” 

“Did you…ask them?” 

Bless him, the boy was trying so hard.   
“No…our priority was to keep them out of the populace.” 

“Where they came from doesn’t matter.” 

The sultan took control of the conversation from here. Nicky couldn’t help but keep his head lowered now. Jafar did the same; keeping his head down, but staring up at her with an expression like a snake bite. 

“We will have them brought to the dungeons, my Sultan.” The first guard offered. 

“No.” She stepped forward. “I want to hear from them first.” 

“Majesty, this man is dangerous!!” 

“I know who he is!! I know what he did, I felt him do it!! Look at him,” nobody seemed willing, “he has nothing. No staff, no lamp, no station. We have nothing to fear anymore.” 

“So you say.” 

It was the same voice that had spoken on the boat. Cold steel had replaced warmth and charm. In this voice, Nicky could hear the man Jafar claimed to be. This man was capable of destabilizing a government on a whim. This man would, simply because he wanted to, try and take a woman for himself. 

The sultan came closer. Her husband (Nicky figured since the guards didn’t stop him) jumped forward to hold her back. 

“Jasmine, don’t!!” For all his ineptitude at ruling, his worrying revealed how much he loved her. 

Jasmine laid a hand on the young man’s arm and gently moved him out of her way. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured him, “he can’t hurt me.” 

“You keep saying that.” Jafar taunted, “When did you get so brave?” 

“When did you get so thoughtless?” Jasmine countered with ease. “You knew what would happen if you tried to come back.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came here by mistake.” 

She cocked her head to the side to lock eyes with him. “You expect me to believe that?” 

“It’s true.” Nicky spoke up. “We ‘re only here by coincidence.” 

Jasmine turned her attention to him. “What part do you have to play in this?” She asked. “What business are you involved in that you’ve thrown your lot in him?” 

“I—“ 

“He’s my prisoner.”   
Nicky startled a bit. That voice like freezing water was still there, but why would this Jafar lie for him? Why would he step in when he didn’t have to? Which side was real? If Jafar had been acting this whole time, feigning sincerity and the want for forgiveness, was this newest lie just a means to another end? 

Or was the real Jafar the good man he’d set free, and there was some part of the story Nicky hadn’t learned yet? 

“I’m not.” Nicky put forth a test. “I found the lamp in a desert. I took possession of him and set him free.” 

“This man is an idiot,” Jafar passed, “made delirious by exposure to heat. He forgets I captured him months ago after I’d already been freed by someone else.” 

“Enough.” Jasmine drew back. “One of you is lying, and while I have my suspicions who it is, I’d like them either confirmed or denied for myself. Guards,” she ordered, “take Jafar to the dungeon. Keep him secluded. I don’t want anyone getting in who might be turned against us.”

Nicky’s heart jumped to his throat. Liar or not, he didn’t like the thought that Jafar would be taken from his side. He didn’t know where the dungeon was, and he could only extrapolate what they did there from what he’d seen done in other prisons. No, if Jafar was to be put through that, they both should. Either two innocent men would be tortured, or two guilty (if Jafar was the monster they thought he was, Nicky felt responsible for abetting him.) 

“No!!” He shouted, “You can’t separate us!!” 

If a calamity was what was needed, a calamity he would bring. Nicky could not, in good conscience, see Jafar dragged somewhere where he couldn’t follow. Morally, it went against everything he stood for. 

Emotionally, in the part of Nicky’s heart that he’d been preparing to wall off should Jafar betray him, he didn’t want to see his friend taken away. Internal conflict aside, there was no denying Nicky had developed feelings he didn’t have a name for, yet. They were impossibly strong; and they were screaming at him to keep fighting against the hands that had rushed to restrain him.

“Nicky, stop!!” 

Oh God…

That voice, back to what he knew and loved, pulled every moment they’d spent together to the front of Nicky’s mind. Jafar had been stronger than him, capable of using his magic to take whatever he wanted the second Nicky’s back was turned.

He’d given all that up. 

He’d handed Nicky the lamp and told him to get rid of it. 

He’d changed Nicky’s name just to free him from the burden of his past. 

“Stop.” Jafar repeated. “Don’t give them any reason to hurt you.” 

Nicky tried to force a joke. That was what they did, right? When things got to be too much? “Take your own advice.” He attempted, but the humor never made it into his words. 

The guards took Jafar away, and Nicky was left alone with the sultan and her husband. 

He hadn’t felt this alone in a long time. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jafar had suspected the guards had no intention of leaving him alone right away. He had talked down to, insulted, and in some cases physically attacked most of the men who were around him right now. Some, he noted, had grown up quite a bit since he’d last seen them. As they beat him and his head bounced off first the wall and then the floor, he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. 

Of course, they had probably been trained twice as hard as before simply in preparation for this moment. Had to be ready for when the power-mad sorcerer made his return. Couldn’t risk being caught off guard again. 

Jafar had noticed the absence of a new vizier in the hall. He hoped Aladdin wasn’t filling that position now. 

That boy had a good heart, but no head for strategy. 

None of this pondering could distract from the pain. There was plenty of it. When guards are taking out years of anger, one should expect pain. 

Let them do what they must. He’d been expecting this, and was expecting far worse to come. 

It had nothing on what he’d felt when he’d looked at Nicky. 

Jafar had no control over his temper in the hall. Seeing Jasmine standing there, as proud as her father had been, brought back those old nasty feelings he’d thought he had gotten rid of. She had humiliated him, gotten in his path at every turn, bested him without breaking a sweat, and now she ruled Agrabah. 

Before Jafar had let his greed go to his head, he had also thought she would make a capable sultan if she just had more experience in the world. She was educated and clever; but cleverness could only stretch so far. 

Jasmine had always been Jafar’s biggest rival. It put a bitter taste in his mouth know that she had won. 

Nicky saw that bitterness for himself. It nearly killed Jafar to see doubt blossom on his face. He was questioning everything now, and Jafar had no words to explain himself. 

If they ever saw each other again, that was the only thing Jafar would ask for: one last chance.   
The guards retreated after a while. He was left breathless and exhausted, and he could pinpoint exactly which parts of his body would bruise the deepest. The coppery taste of blood lingered on Jafar’s tongue. In a way, he was thankful for it. It gave him something new to focus on.

It was bitter, like polluted water. 

Where had they taken Nicky? 

No, stop it. 

His bleeding lip didn’t hurt too much; only when he accidentally touched it. 

Was Nicky bleeding, too? 

Stop. 

Nothing felt broken, but everything felt stiff and sore. 

They had to know he was innocent. They had no reason not to believe Jafar’s story. 

Except Jasmine hadn’t believed it. Why would she? 

What were they doing? How badly was Nicky hurt? What were they trying to get out of him? 

“NO!!” 

Jafar could do nothing but scream that single word. Nicky had told them the truth. Why? Why had he been so insistent on coming along to this damp prison? That moron…that complete fool had jeopardized his own chance to get away. That idiot had practically condemned himself, even after learning the truth. Why? Why not play along and say he was a prisoner? Why not buy his freedom when the only price was Jafar’s to pay? Why— 

Jafar had handed Nicky a golden opportunity to leave him behind. All he’d had to do was agree that he was being held against his will. 

So why…

Jafar knew why. 

No matter how many times they called each other “friend,” he knew why. 

They had each come up with a dozen different names for it, when only one fit. 

But love had no home in a dungeon cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No hate toward Aladdin, I love him to pieces, but this is the same man who brought us "we have tiny spoons and jams." 
> 
> Also I adore Jasmine and we will DEFINITELY see her give Nicky a run for his money in the wit department next chapter.
> 
> Not such a happy ending this time, but things will not be rough for long. And just to clarify, the guards beat the snot out of Jafar and that's all. I don't write non-con, implied or otherwise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a little bit of context for the Sherabad/Agrabah conflict and did my best to present both Nicky's argument and Jasmine's argument as fairly as I could. Jasmine is willing to hear Nicky out, but she also has her own experiences to consider. Nicky understands what she was put through, but he's more sympathetic to Jafar because he's spent time with the "reformed" Jafar and doesn't have first-hand knowledge of what went down. 
> 
> Also I couldn't resist the Dahlia cameo. I know she and Genie got their happily ever after, but what best friend wouldn't want to be there to support her bestie when an evil sorceror mysteriously returns?

Nicky’s room was nicer than he’d expected; comfortable and airy with a view clear across the city. It was the sort of space in which one should be able to breathe freely, and yet he felt as if he was suffocating. There were too many unknown variables, too many possibilities for the future. For example, it looked like he would be on his own again for a while. 

In the past, Nicky wouldn’t have minded this. 

He minded now. 

There was also an itchy feeling about this room. Nicky could tell someone was watching him from somewhere; perhaps from the adjacent windows, or the crack in the doorway. He was being observed like a rare specimen. Whomever was spying, he thought, ought to have the decency to introduce themselves first. They held his fate in their hands, so he might as well know their names. 

He found that he liked knowing the names and faces of the people he may someday be fighting. 

Indeed, it would come to a fight if Nicky found out Jafar had been hurt. 

There was a soft knock at the door. He said nothing, but the visitor entered anyway. 

Nicky heard a tray being set down, and then silence. The itchy feeling intensified. 

“Get out.” He bit. 

“I was told to come here.” A woman’s voice answered. “The sultan wanted me to see if you were alright.” 

He turned. She looked harmless enough. She clearly held a position of great importance given how she was dressed (though she wasn’t royal), and she had the kind of face which one could easily find comfort in. 

“She wanted to see if I’d calmed down.” Nicky called the woman’s bluff. “Tell her I haven’t.” 

The woman turned and started to walk away, but turned back to add: “He isn’t worth it, you know. The man you came here with.” 

Here was another soul impacted by who Jafar had been. Nicky could see a phantom pain in her eyes. “He wouldn’t have been worth it before,” he agreed, “but I still believe he’s worth it now.” 

She left, no doubt to report on what he’d said. It wouldn’t earn him any favor with the sultan, but he didn’t care. Nicky stood by his words. Let the sultan and her guards and even her well-meaning husband try to change his mind. He wasn’t giving up yet. 

Night came and went, bringing no sleep. Morning brought no renewed optimism. 

Food was brought. Nicky didn’t touch it. Rule one of battle: don’t accept the enemy’s charity. 

Later in the morning, a letter was left by his door. It was a detailed account of what Jafar had done the day he’d been sealed in the lamp. Everything he had admitted to was there in writing, and more. It was hardly surprising (especially after hearing about the giant parrot) that he had used magic to try and control Jasmine’s father; but the reasoning seemed…off. 

Jafar had asked about Sherabad the day they left the desert. Based on this document, he had been invested in a possibly growing conflict for quite some time. Nicky started to see a pattern in his actions. Jafar would give the sultan a warning about escalation, the sultan would ignore it, and Jafar would take action. His last warning had to do with a growing army. Whoever wrote the document included an assurance that no such army had been found; yet Nicky was all too aware of how easy it was to hide one’s forces among the populace. 

It had been as Nicky suspected. This wasn’t a clear case of good versus evil. This was a man losing his mind out of frustration and fear and a ruler not understanding why. 

The Jafar Nicky had spent so much time with was real, but only one part of a very complicated whole. 

He certainly didn’t need to be in a prison now. 

The palace was crawling with guards; double the number now that a “dangerous criminal” had been apprehended. It would have to come to violence. They wouldn’t let Jafar go free without a battle, and Nicky wasn’t leaving him to rot. 

He hadn’t heard any locks being turned, meaning he may be able to leave without breaking the door down. Nicky placed his hand on the knob and tried to turn it, but was met with resistance as someone else pulled from the other side. There was an exasperated sigh and then: 

“If you wouldn’t mind delaying your escape, I’d like a word.” 

Nicky stepped aside and the sultan entered. She rushed past him and stopped in the center of the room, leaving the door open. Had she not currently been giving him a look that made it clear she was in no mood for ridicule, he may have made a comment about being born in a barn. As it stood, she was. Nicky closed the door without the remark. 

“I don’t want to waste time,” Jasmine began, “so just tell me. Why did Jafar bring you here?” 

“I told you yesterday, we came here by coincidence.” 

“That’s not what he says.” 

“You’ve talked to him?” Nicky wanted to ask about Jafar’s wellbeing, but that could wait. “Is he still claiming I’m his prisoner?” 

“He swears to it.” Jasmine confirmed. “Funny, I’ve never known Jafar to swear to anything. He always acted like it was beneath him.” She noticed the letter, which Nicky had tossed onto the unused bed. “You know about him. You know the truth.” 

“I commend you on your handwriting.” Nicky picked up the letter and handed it back to her. “Your penmanship rivals that of the scholars from my home; but your account is unfinished.” 

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Unfinished?” She asked curiously. “What did I miss?” 

“The other side. His side.” 

Her face contorted in anger. “He doesn’t get a side. What he did to my father, what he did to me—!” 

“Is unforgivable,” Nicky needed to win Jasmine back to his side. She could be invaluable in saving Jafar’s life, “and he’ll spend the rest of his life atoning for it, but I don’t think it was entirely out of malice.” 

Understanding replaced anger. Jasmine began pacing the room, looking Nicky up and down and nodding to herself. “I know where you come from.” She said. “I know who you used to travel with. The crusaders tried to threaten my people once. They weren’t difficult to drive back.” 

“You have a capable military.” Nicky offered his compliment. “Why was your father afraid to stand against Sherabad?” 

“He wasn’t afraid! They had no army!” 

“But there was conflict, wasn’t there?” 

Nicky had kept up to date with the world’s political maneuverings while he’d been with his regiment. For a few months, it looked like they would be disbanded and sent home early. Sherabad and Agrabah had been on the brink of war for years; dating back to when Jasmine’s mother had been assassinated and her mother and father had taken that as an attack on their home. After all, there had been those in Agrabah who disapproved of the previous sultan’s choice of bride simply because she had come from what was perceived as a much weaker country. 

“It was nothing diplomacy couldn’t fix.” Jasmine defended herself. “I will admit ti was difficult to broker peace, but we did. An invasion wouldn’t have solved anything.” 

“Jafar’s methods may have been dramatic,” Nicky accepted, “but he saw something wrong. He simply went about trying to prevent it in the worst way.” 

Jasmine fell silent. Nicky could tell his words had made her think. He only hoped her thoughts were turning more toward mercy. A sly smile crept onto the sultan’s face. She fixed her expression back into one of neutral contemplation. “It must be so difficult…” she murmured. 

“What must be?” 

“Caring for someone so much that you’d stick your own head on the chopping block to protect them.” 

“It is.” Nicky answered.   
“That’s a very dangerous kind of love.” 

“Well, it’s the kind I—“ 

Jasmine turned around with a smirk on her face. Nicky felt himself blush as he realized what he’d almost confessed. “I wondered what you would do,” the sultan held up the letter, “once you read this. If you had accepted it as the truth, I would know you really were his prisoner; or at least that you held no great affection for him. You didn’t take it at face value, which tells me he really does mean something to you and you may actually be here by choice. How long did it take you to come up with his defense? A few seconds or a few minutes?” 

“I started planning as soon as I read the last word. Did I get through to you at all?” 

“A little,” Jasmine admitted, “then I remembered something. I was there. You weren’t. He used his magic on me, he attacked and humiliated my father, and I don’t owe him or you anything. I admire your logic; however there is a difference between reading of his power and feeling it!”

Nicky followed her as she started for the door. He struggled to keep the rage out of his tone. “What now?” He questioned her, “You kill him anyway? The damn note, that test of yours, what were they?! Amusements?!” 

Jasmine turned to him before leaving the room. “You seem reasonable; capable of making smart decisions. You see something in Jafar and I’ll take that into account, but this is MY kingdom, and MY decision.” 

She left, not forgetting to shut the door this time. 

So, thought Nicky, it’s time to try something more drastic. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

It seemed beatings would be a daily occurrence. 

At least this one didn’t last long. A single guard, probably trying to prove himself to his comrades, had punched Jafar in the face before beating a hasty retreat. The imbecile had swung wrong, clipping Jafar’s cheekbone and doing more damage to himself. 

Jafar would develop a black eye. The way the guard had punched, Jafar suspected he had fractured a bone in his own hand. 

The intimidation factor would wear off eventually, and he suspected that he wasn’t long for the world anyway. Little moments like this didn’t bother him. It was better to feel pain than to feel nothing. Jafar remembered seeing prisoners brought to their executions who had gone so numb that they hadn’t even managed last words. They looked hollow; almost as if they’d already died and just hadn’t realized it yet. 

He wouldn’t be like that. If he was to die as a villain, he would do so. 

Why not give the people what they expected? 

There was no way of keeping time in this prison. Jafar hadn’t yet lost himself so much that it felt like years. He only wondered if a full day had passed. 

He hoped it had. That would mean Nicky had slept somewhere. 

No, knowing how stubborn he was, he’d probably stayed up all night. 

He had probably given the guards around him hours worth of trouble. 

He could be gone already; out of the palace, out of Agrabah, and out of danger. 

Jafar eventually found a new way to keep track of time. He could faintly hear other prisoners nearby. When they started getting rowdy, banging around in their cells or screaming for release, he figured it must be the equivalent to daytime. When they fell silent, it must be time to fall asleep. That system provided a modicum of structure. 

The system didn’t last long at all. In fact, it didn’t even make it through the first cycle. The prisoners fell asleep one by one, the guards withdrew (or, most of them did), and then some lunatic caused a disturbance and the prisoners got wound up again. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky didn’t want to wait, but he had to. Breaking Jafar out in the middle of the day would be a fool’s errand. Once night fell, there would be less chance for interference. 

The guards were only doing their jobs. He wouldn’t kill them if he didn’t have to, and the less of them he had to knock around the better.

This wasn’t about settling a score. Nicky just wanted to get Jafar and get out. 

To his surprise, the guards stationed right outside his door didn’t stop him as he walked out. The further away he got, however, the more they became…reactionary. 

The fists started flying at the base of the first staircase Nicky went down. 

Nicky tried to keep the noise to a minimum. He knew which pressure points to hit in order to render his opponents unconscious, and while this worked for almost half of them, the other half were too well-muscled. Trying to hit their pressure points only angered them further. These men, Nicky found, put up the kind of fight he’d been expecting when he joined the crusades. 

He was bloody and bruised by the time he found his way to the dungeon. Its doors were locked tight, and no amount of throwing his weight against them would help. Nicky heard voices nearby and took a sword off the last guard he’d incapacitated. 

The man had no keys on him. Nicky had already done a very thorough search. 

As two more guards rounded the corner, Nicky grabbed one and held the blade against his throat. The man’s companion drew his own weapon.   
“I wouldn’t.” Nicky warned. “I have no interest in killing tonight, but I will do what I must. Now, which of you has the key to that door?” 

“It won’t matter.” his captive rasped, “Neither of you will get out of here with your lives.” 

“If that’s the case, I should hate for any of us to miss the fun.” Nicky pressed the blade harder. “Key now, if you will.” The second guard lowered his weapon and pulled a key out of his pocket. Nicky released his prisoner and snatched it. “Go now. Tell your sultan a prisoner has escaped. Tell her you were attacked by a mad man and escaped with your lives. It sounds better than being caught off guard by one man.” 

They took the hint and left. Nicky nearly tore the door off its hinges (partially because he hadn’t expected it to really open) and descended into the prison. 

There were only a few more obstacles down here. Unfortunately, fighting with them had set a few of the prisoners off. Their shouting about an “intruder” would have been comically ironic if not for the conditions they were in. 

Nicky couldn’t think about Jafar being here. He wouldn’t be for long, and focus was of the utmost importance. Jasmine had ordered him to be kept secluded, so Nicky explored until he found a hallway which sloped further downward. 

The path seemed endless. Nicky started to feel he’d walked for hours, until finally he came to another cell door. This lock, at least, looked easy to break. 

“Back already?” 

Nicky felt his heart stall for a beat. 

“What’s going on out there? It sounds quite exciting.” 

“You haven't heard?” Nicky’s voice shook, “There’s been an escape. Stand away from the door.” 

A solid kick, the breaking of metal, and the door burst open. Nicky wasted little time in running in and pulling Jafar into a hug. Jafar stepped back out of it too soon. 

“What are you doing?!” He sounded angry. 

“I told you,” Nicky replied, “I don't want you to go. Come on, they’ll be swarming already.” 

Jafar hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I do!” 

“Nicky.” Jafar met his eyes. “You don’t know the full story.” 

Thus marked the time for the second drastic measure of the night. “I know enough.” Nicky held Jafar by the shoulders. “I know what you did, and I think I know why. I don’t care. You can spend the rest of your life doing the right thing to make up for it.” 

“There won’t be enough—“ 

The kiss was rushed. Jafar was right, there wasn’t enough time to do it properly. This would have to do for now. 

“Ready?” Nicky whispered as they broke apart. Jafar nodded; the ghost of the smile Nicky loved starting to show on his face. 

Footsteps thundered toward them. Jafar took Nicky’s hand. “Hope you saved a few for me.” 

“And let you take half the credit?” Nicky ribbed him. “Always.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this kind of a part one with the next chapter being part two. I would have put everything into one chapter, but it would have been absurdly long.

Back when Jafar had been a serving boy, the guards used to amuse themselves by teaching him how to fight. He was built for speed and agility; a wiry young boy with legs good for jumping and arms good for…not much beyond climbing walls. They would challenge him to try and hold the weaponry properly. He’d been able to wield the smaller swords (mostly those only used for decoration or tournaments) but as soon as he took up a shield or strapped on armor he would lose his balance. 

They never teased him for his short-comings. Back then, they’d been his superiors. There was no sport in mocking the child everyone knew had only been hired out of pity. 

The challenges had taught Jafar to find a new way to win. If he couldn’t out-fight his opponents, he’d have to outrun and out-think them. 

Admittedly, it was hard to think right now. 

Nicky kept hold of his hand as they made their way through the palace. Jafar was able to pull from memories of his childhood whenever a fight presented itself. His style was scrappy but effective. Momentum and gravity were his friends, along with being small enough to maneuver around anyone larger than him. 

If they got out of this alive, Nicky would have to teach him how to fight. Jafar hoped the need for such skills wouldn’t emerge after this. He also knew that with his lucky it absolutely would. 

By luck, they stumbled on a quiet corridor and stopped to catch their breath. 

“I’m impressed.” Nicky said, “You’re tearing through them like paper dolls.” 

“You make a good shield.” Jafar’s quip hung in the air before falling flat. “We still have a long way to go before we’re free.” He reasoned. “If something happens and I go down—“ 

“If you get killed,” Nicky interrupted, “I’ll make sure they follow close behind.”

“I’ll do the same for you.” 

“I know.”   
Their respite was coming to an end. Nicky had been disarmed as they’d come out of the dungeon. This hadn’t slowed him down at all. As it turned out, he was just as capable with his fists as he was with a weapon. The day he’d threatened the owner of the prison ship hadn’t been a bluff. He was filthy, covered in sweat and blood, and damn if he didn’t wear it well. 

They made it all the way to the great hall before things went wrong. When they got there, they were met with a veritable army blocking their way out. Jafar had known it was going too well. He’d been expecting a final trap. 

He hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Any ideas?” Jafar looked to Nicky. 

“Not at the moment.” Nicky admitted. 

“You got us into this!” 

“I’m not the one with the giant parrot!” 

Fair enough. 

Nicky’s eyes lit up a bit. “I have a plan,” he explained, “but you’ll hate it and it might not work. Are you willing to trust me?” 

“Right now?” 

Nicky didn’t wait for a yes or no answer. He started toward the soldiers, gesturing for Jafar to stay back when he started to follow. Jafar started to guess the plan when he approached the most intimidating man in the group, ripped his helmet off, and engaged him in a one-on-one fight. Of course the others jumped in to help their friend, leaving a sizable opening for Jafar to slip away unnoticed. 

He would have done (and waited for Nicky outside, since abandoning him wasn’t part of the plan even if Nicky intended it to be) had the guards not suddenly fallen deathly silent. Jafar hurried back, shoving them out of the way, until he saw what had happened. 

He saw two things, actually: first, the guard Nicky had targeted, holding a dagger which was dripping blood from its point; second, Nicky on the ground, grimacing and holding his side as blood soaked through his shirt. 

The guard was pulled away by his comrade. Jafar didn’t listen to their conversation, though he did catch the words “wanted him unharmed” and “against the sultan’s orders.” 

So she’d had her own plan for how tonight would go. She’d known they would try to escape. 

Jafar wanted, in this moment, to have every ounce of his old power back. Had this been a game to her?! 

“Hey,” damn Nicky for still forcing a smile, “quit glowering at the masses and help me up.”   
——————————————————————————————————————————

Getting stabbed wasn’t much fun. 

The wrestling match beforehand had been; and if Nicky’s opponent hadn’t pulled out a second weapon, it would have worked exactly as it was planned. 

The idea had been to whip the guards into such a frenzied state that they wouldn’t noticed Nicky had slipped away until he and Jafar were already gone. It was a stupid plan, possibly the worst he’d ever had, but it was better than nothing. 

Truth be told, the point hadn’t gone in that deep. It simply hurt like nothing Nicky had ever experienced before and bled like a stuck pig. Fortunately, the incredible pain sparked a new idea. If brute strength wouldn’t get Jafar and Nicky their freedom, perhaps guilt would. 

Nicky knew Jasmine respected him. She was smart enough to know he’d try to escape tonight (that was the only way to explain the unlocked bedroom door and the non-combative guards) and, he thought, merciful enough to give him a fair shot. 

The sultan didn’t want Nicky dead. He was sure of that. She would have given orders to keep him alive. That was why he’d planned to pull focus so Jafar could get out first. 

If the soldiers fought Jafar, they would kill him. If they fought Nicky, they’d be forced to pull their punches. 

Except the one who had stabbed him, clearly. 

The lightness in Nicky’s head told him he was bleeding too much. 

Oh no. Jafar was looking like he wanted to kick the fight off again. “Hey,” Nicky broke his concentration, “quit glaring at the masses and help me up.” 

Jafar pulled Nicky to his feet and started helping him toward the door. “Was this part of the plan?” He asked in a voice which Nicky was sure was supposed to sound angry. “It was bold of you, assuming they wouldn’t stab you in the heart.” 

“This was Plan B.” 

“I’m sure it was.” 

The night air greeted them with pleasant warmth; still, Nicky felt himself starting to shiver. He had to stay awake until they were safe. If more guards tried to stop them…Jafar could fight just fine in hand-to-hand. Nicky doubted he had much training with a blade…damn it was freezing… 

“Ay,” Nicky slurred, “you know, I’m gonna make you a proper soldier. We’ll train.” 

“We will.” Jafar hoisted him up a little more. 

“Put a sword in your hand, see what happens.” 

“I’m a quick study. I’ll surpass you soon enough.” 

Nicky tried to wink. “I bet you will.” 

The last thing Nicky saw before blacking out was a set of gates, the same ones they’d come through yesterday, swinging closed behind them. 

Good, he though, good riddance. 

—————————————————————————————————————————— 

There was only one person Jafar could go to, now. He’d never wanted it to come to this and taken steps specifically to avoid her; now, he had no choice. She wouldn’t be happy to see him (even less so now that he was carrying a dying man). She would likely turn him away. 

It had to be done. 

The little home sat at the far edge of the city. Thanks in large part to contributions Jafar had made before he’d become so greedy, it was comfortable and warm. The woman who lived here had always been extremely careful when it came to saving money. He had always marveled at how long she made everything last. Her mending, especially, was so revered that the wealthier citizens used to pay her to fix holes in their clothes. 

Had she not been so good with a needle and thread, Jafar wouldn’t even entertain the idea of bringing his trouble to her doorstep. The fact was, Nicky wouldn’t last long enough for him to find anyone else. 

Jafar knocked on her door and waited. 

When she opened the door, all he could think to say was “Please, Mama. He’s dying.” 

She was definitely older now, and yet her face was as it always had been; filled with determination and fortitude. 

“Did you do what they accuse you of?” She asked. 

“I did.” 

“Did this man help you?” 

“No,” Jafar tightened his grip on Nicky as if to keep him from slipping away completely, “he’s the only one I want to be better for. Please, at least save him. I’ll go. I’ll disappear again. I’m only asking—“ 

“Get inside.” 

“What?”   
“Before someone sees you,” his mother ordered, “get inside!” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky had had some strange dreams in his life. He’d been stuck in midair, lost in endless mazes, and more than once he’d found himself in times long past. It could all be attributed to an active imagination. His mother and father had emphasized the importance of a thorough education. Nicky had spent every free moment learning how to read and write. Back then, when he’d been nothing but a pious man’s son, he had had aspirations of joining the great scholars. 

He wasn’t sure, though, what spurred this on. 

He was dreaming of three figures; two women and a man. Nicky thought at first that the man could be Jafar; and was disappointed when the image became distinct and it wasn’t someone he’d met before.

The dream had started with a dark-haired warrior. She was tall and thin, but imposing. She carried a strange-looking axe, rounded at the head like two crescent shapes with a gap between them. Something about the air around her, the way she carried herself, gave her an other-worldly feel. She reminded Nicky of a figure out of Greek myth. 

Her life played out in front of him in a series of flashes: she was watching over her family, overcome with longing but resisting the urge to go to them. She was in battle, finally able to put her loneliness aside and pay attention to the task at hand. She was alone again, and getting better at it every day. She finally found someone else like her: another woman, younger looking, not as tall, and twice as fierce. They found kinship in each other. They became a family. The man Nicky had never met joined shortly after. The trio felt complete and secure. They found battles to join and causes to defend. 

They healed at a dizzying rate. One moment one of them would fall down dead, the next they’d get up without a scratch. 

Until one of them didn’t get up. 

The dream turned tragic in the blink of an eye. Nicky felt a pain slice through his heart as the women gathered around their friend. Emotion permeated the atmosphere and made it hard to breathe. They were confused, and devastated, and so scared. A question entered Nicky’s head that he hadn’t posed: why isn’t he healing? 

Why isn’t he healing?!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Nicky says something pretty harsh at the end. I swear, it doesn't mean what you might think it does. He's just dealing with a lot this chapter. He hasn't suddenly turned jerk.

The stitches were impeccable. 

Jafar had expected nothing less. 

His mother finished her work, threw a blanket over Nicky’s sleeping form, then turned her attention to her son. “I’ve done what I can. Whatever happens next is up to him.” 

“I understand.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you.” 

“Where have you been?” 

The question caught Jafar off-guard. “I…worked in the palace for a few years.” 

“I know that. You disappeared. Where did you go?” 

“That’s not easy to explain.” 

She took his face in her hands and examined it. Jafar was reminded of the times she would do this when he was a boy. Every bleeding lip, black eye, boxed ear, and bruised cheek was analyzed completely before his mother would be satisfied. There was no judgement from her; only sadness and weariness. “You dabbled in magic.” She chided. “That leaves a mark you can’t remove. It comes with a high cost.” 

“I paid the price.” Jafar placed a hand on hers. 

“You’ll pay again.” 

Jafar pulled away and turned to Nicky, sitting beside him and watching as he breathed. “I plan to put some good back in the world.” He replied. “We’re traveling together. We’re going to help people; like the heroes in the stories you used to tell. That’s how I’ll pay my debt.” 

“Was he there that day?” She asked. “Did he help you?” 

“No, we didn’t know each other yet. He wouldn’t have had anything to do with me back then. He’s helping me now.” 

“He makes you better. Do you do the same for him?” 

Jafar chuckled. “I try to. There’s not much to improve.” 

His mother shrugged. “He’s important to you. That should be enough to carry him back to you.” 

With that, she walked away and left Jafar and Nicky alone. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky woke in a house he didn’t recognize. 

It hurt to breathe, and move, and turn his head. 

He looked down at the neat row of stitches in his abdomen and remembered how he’d earned them. The plan had gone south, he would admit that, but it had worked nonetheless. They were free, and once he regained feeling in his legs (an unpleasant tingling told him that wouldn’t be long) they could continue on their way. 

They’d just have to be more careful next time. No more surprise destinations.   
Nicky ran a finger over his stitches and flinched at the spark of pain. 

“I wouldn’t do that. My mother will kill you the rest of the way if you mess up her work.” 

Jafar’s voice worked on him like a balm. The stiffness and discomfort became negligible as he came into view and pushed a cup of water into Nicky’s hands. 

“I slept through meeting your mother? Shame on me.” Nicky downed the water too quickly and choked a little. 

“Serves you right.” 

“Be nice to me, I was just dying.” 

Nicky set the empty cup on the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position. It wasn’t lost on him how significant this was; taking shelter in the home where Jafar had grown up. The walls were solid stone and thick enough to keep out the elements. Each room seemed to flow into another, and glassless windows coaxed in both beautiful sunlight and the rare cross-breeze. The space as a whole was just big enough for three people. 

“We’ll have to get moving soon.” Jafar reported. “They’ll be searching for us; though maybe not actively. I think the sultan would be satisfied with never seeing my face again.” 

“We can make our way toward Genoa.” Nicky offered. “It’s large enough that we could hide without running into my family.” 

There was a pause. What Nicky didn’t reveal was that seeing Jafar’s childhood home had reminded him how much he missed his own family. He just wanted to see them one more time. he wanted to know for certain that they were moving on with their lives. Once he was sure they were happy, he’d be able to leave them alone for good. 

“It’s a good plan.” Jafar seemed to sense Nicky’s intention. “Would the crusaders give us any trouble?” 

“No, I’d protect you. As long as we don’t cause a scene, we’ll be fine.” 

“Nicky,” Jafar reminded him, “we’re not exactly good at that.”

“I’ll put it this way,” Nicky smiled wryly, “nobody’s holding any life grudges against me.” 

“We’re already off to a better start, then.” Jafar sat down on the edge of Nicky’s cot. “There’s something else I need to ask you about, now that we’ve planned the next leg of our journey.” He took a breath before continuing. “When you came to get me out of my cell…was that real, or were you just trying to move me along?” 

“Was what real?” Nicky played coy. “You mean this?” He tugged on Jafar’s sleeve to pull himself up further. This kiss wasn’t rushed like the last. Nicky tried to hide the answer within it. He only stopped because his breathing picked up and the damn stab wound started to hurt again. 

They’d just have to try again later. And again, and again. 

Nicky doubted kissing Jafar would ever get old. 

“Real, then.” Jafar said. 

“They’ll always be real.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

From that moment, thanks to previous experience and taking more time for actual planning, Nicky and Jafar’s travels became less chaotic and more restrained. They took temporary positions on vessels which carried them as far from Agrabah’s shores as they could get. They made money however they could. Jafar, while lacking real magical abilities, was a genius at slight of hand and illusions. Nicky told stories (some real, some fake, some heavily embellished), and they charmed whomever they had to to get whatever they needed. Wealthy women, especially, were sympathetic to attractive penniless male travelers. One reminder of “Christ’s call to give alms to the needy,” and Nicky could usually guarantee Jafar and himself rooms for the night. 

Most times, a lie here and there was required. 

Once it became clear that these had to be added to their repertoire, they agreed that certain lines wouldn’t be crossed. Jafar refused to pose as a manservant. Nicky refused to pose as a cleric. 

Each other’s security came first. 

Nicky would run any spur-of-the-moment plans past Jafar before he rushed headlong into danger. 

Jafar would use Nicky as a crutch to counter his anger. 

They’d never leave each other’s sights unless it was unavoidable. 

When they were alone (and outdoors, away from prying eyes) they would train. They couldn’t get their hands on swords, so they had to make due with hand-to-hand combat. Jafar hadn’t been lying. He really was a fast learner; needing only one or two demonstrations before he could copy Nicky’s movements perfectly. 

Genoa was a more poignant experience than Nicky had thought it would be. He’d found his family and his home with ease; but seeing them all didn’t bring him the catharsis he’d believed it would. There were new babies now (how had he forgotten his bother’s wife had been pregnant?) and animals he didn’t recognize. His brother had grown a beard (Mother must LOVE that) and Nicky’s father’s hair had gone completely grey. The farm seemed quieter. Something (or rather someone) was definitely missing. 

Nicky knew he couldn’t let them know he was watching them. The crusade was far from over. He was presumed dead. If they saw him, they’d all be persecuted as cowards and traitors right alongside him. 

It was better that they missed him. They could reminisce on when he’d been in their lives, and he could take comfort in knowing his nieces and nephews would grow up with their parents and grandparents in peace.   
Nicky hoped at least one of those children would become a scholar. 

He and Jafar found his headstone at the edge of the property. It was a beautifully polished rock with Nicky’s name, birth date, and fake death date expertly carved onto the face. The epitaph read “faithful, courageous, compassionate.” Nicky took this as a sign. He had to live up to that reputation. He couldn’t very well make his mother and father into liars, after all. 

They didn’t stay in Genoa much longer after that. Nicky had never felt a connection to his birth place. Genoa hadn’t been his home. His home had been his parents’ farm. Once he said his goodbyes to it, he had no reason to linger. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jafar did his best to lift Nicky’s spirits as they departed. The agreed-upon next destination was Palermo. They had a very long trip ahead of them, which afforded him plenty of opportunities to make Nicky feel at least a little better. 

Nicky wasn’t moping or anything. Worse. He was acting like he was completely fine. 

Jafar had had a hard time saying goodby to his mother when they left Agrabah, and he’d had the benefit of getting to give her one last hug. 

He couldn’t imagine having to walk away without a single word to her. 

On their second day at sea, Jafar got hold of a spare piece of twine and sat Nicky down in a secluded corner for a knot-tying lesson. Nicky, for all his dexterity in combat, couldn’t bend the twine to his will no matter how hard he tried. Jafar settled for showing off. Thankfully, he managed to get a half-smile out of his lover before Nicky lost interest and walked away. 

The cat was let out of the bag the next morning. 

Jafar woke to find Nicky already out of their bunk. 

He came up with the rule about staying in sight! Jafar thought, trying not to panic. 

To his relief, he didn’t have to look very far. Nicky was on deck, talking to one of the sailors who was explaining the mechanics of a navigating tool. He looked up when he heard Jafar approach, and met him halfway looking chipper. “Thank God you showed up.” He sighed. “That man was boring me into an early grave.” 

“You left the bunk without saying anything.” Jafar scolded him. “What happened to not leaving each other?” 

“Oh.” Nicky’s smile dropped a little. “I’m sorry. I had another strange dream and I didn’t want to disturb you. I thought I’d be back before you woke up.” 

Another dream? The one topic Nicky hadn’t been distant about lately was the pattern his dreams had taken on since the stabbing. He described them all the same way: three people with an incredible ability to heal lived and fought together until one of them unexpectedly bled out on a battlefield. 

Nicky thought the dreams may be linked to his time in the crusade, only there hadn’t been any women in his regiment. There hadn’t been any women period. 

“You’re sure you don’t know these people?” Jafar asked. 

“I’ve never seen them before in my life.” 

“Could they be friends of your parents?” 

“Jafar,” Nicky sounded annoyed, “first of all, no. I’d recognize them if they were. Second, I’d appreciate it if you never mentioned my family again. I’m fine. I can put all that behind me.” 

Nicky started back toward the ladder that led below deck. Jafar followed, but stopped short of descending. 

“Do you regret making your first wish?” He asked. 

Nicky paused halfway down. “I regret a lot of things.” 

He climbed down the rest of the way and disappeared from view.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if this isn't the best chapter. I'm dealing with a stomach bug (damn you poor diet) and I'm also back in my home state for the first time in weeks. 
> 
> I did my best to make it good for you all, though! Enjoy!

Unknown to Nicky and Jafar, two different travelers had just settled into their lodging in Palermo. Andy kept a record of anyone who owed her a favor, and that record had paid off in spades this time. The wealthy nobleman whose wife she’d recovered was more than happy to give her and Quynh rooms in his home. 

It was just the break they needed after losing Lykon. 

Had it already been a century since that battle? It still felt like they’d all been together just yesterday. 

“Deep in thought, Andromache?” Quynh entered the bedroom, having just finished changing her clothes. These were on loan from the nobleman’s wife; and while they would help Andy and Quynh avoid suspicion, they were far from their usual style. 

If it came to a fight, the skirts would be the first things to go. 

The impractical shoes would be next. 

“Let’s review.” Andy sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re certain he’s on his way.” 

“Unless the dream is wrong this time.” Quynh replied. 

“It wasn’t wrong about you.” Andy pointed out. “It wasn’t wrong about Lykon, either.” 

Quynh’s expression turned pensive, and then painfully sad. It was clear they were thinking the same thing. 

Why hadn’t the same dreams that brought them together warned them of how they’d be pulled apart? There was so much that wasn’t known, so much to learn. The sudden loss of Lykon had created an as-yet un-fillable hole in Andy and Quynh’s lives. Now, there was a chance to meet someone new, someone who (possibly) wanted to join this odd little family. 

Losing that person was too painful to consider. Finding him wasn’t just an act of curiosity. It was a requirement. 

“Do you remember his name?” Andy had heard the man’s companion say it in the dream, but she couldn’t recall what it was. 

“Nicolo. The other man called him Nicky.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jafar took the piece of bread he’d stolen from the galley and dropped it onto Nicky’s chest, waking him from his fake sleep. 

“What?” Nicky griped. 

“It’s past Sunset.” Jafar stated. “Some of the other passengers were worried that you’d fallen ill since you’ve been in bed all day.” 

“I’ve been keeping my distance. Is that a crime?” 

“Absolutely not. Now, however, I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” 

Nicky sat up, pushing the bread onto his lap. He regarded it for a while, as if the sight would give him an idea of what to say. “What I told you this morning,” he chose, “wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t mean that I regret everything.” 

“No,” Jafar reminded him, “you just said you regret a lot of things. I’m curious what the list looks like. Am I near the top, or hovering in the middle?” 

“You’re not on it.” 

“We both know I am.” 

“Fine, you are.” Jafar tried to think of a way to not take that personally. Nicky continued, “I don’t regret meeting you, though. I don’t regret freeing you or traveling with you, or kissing you. I regret…I regret not seeing another way to make all that happen.” 

Jafar pulled a rickety stool out from a corner and sat down. “You miss your family.” He said simply. “I saw you in Genoa. I recognized how much you wanted to go home and reunite with them. I felt the same way when I left home. Both times, in fact.” He paused to see if his words would be any comfort. “I understand it isn’t the same. I wouldn’t have the strength to do what you did.” 

“It wasn’t strength!” Nicky exclaimed, “It was foolishness! I tossed them away like they were nothing to me!” 

“You did what you had to do!” Jafar assured. 

“I was selfish.” Nicky pushed back. “I wanted something for myself so badly that I didn’t think of the impact it would have. Sometimes, I wonder if I shouldn’t have stayed with my regiment. Why didn’t I just leave well enough alone?” 

“Because you saw that well enough could be made better.” 

“I let my hero complex take over.” 

“You let your compassion take over.” Jafar took Nicky’s hand and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. “You couldn’t abandon someone in need any more than you could stay complicit in the butchering of innocents. You weren’t foolish, Nicky. You were clever.” 

Nicky appeared to consider this. The last dregs of bitterness slowly disappeared from his face as he interlaced his fingers with Jafar’s. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately.” He murmured. “I just needed to sort out my thoughts. Honestly, ever since the dreams started, I feel like I never get a moment alone; then, when I am alone, all I can do is—“ 

Jafar kissed him before he could finish his sentence. When Nicky pulled back, a glimmer of his old optimism glowed from behind his eyes. “It was my turn.” Jafar reasoned. 

“You know,” Nicky smiled mischievously, “you never got a new name after Agrabah.” 

“I don’t need a new name.” 

“You do. Isn’t that the rule? New life, new name?” 

“When did it become a rule?” 

“Just now, I made it one.” Nicky made a show of thinking very hard. “Jafar has such a negative connotation…how about we tell the rest of the world your name is Yusuf? It’s nondescript. Nobody will question it.” 

“It’s old-fashioned,” Jafar resisted, “and it makes me sound dangerously arrogant.” 

“We’d only have to use it in public.” There was no changing Nicky’s mind. “In private, you can be someone else.” 

“I’ve given you a silly name, it’s only fair that mine is equally strange. I want you to call me Joe.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky was smiling again. Andy hadn’t seen that in her dreams in a while. The burdened feeling he (and by extension she) had been carrying was gone, replaced with contentment and love for the man in bed beside him. Andy thought of the feelings she had around Quynh; peace, tranquility, and a powerful need to keep her safe and never let the shadows of the world touch her. 

Love really was like a port in a storm. 

The only difference was Andy never had to leave her port. Nicky wouldn’t have a choice. 

His companion seemed wonderful, full of good humor and loyal to a fault, but he was only mortal. He would age and die. The passage of time had a funny way of turning one’s loved ones into one’s adversaries. When you never aged while they did, when you never suffered the way they were forced to, they started asking questions; and those questions could turn accusatory in a heart beat. 

Nicky’s best chance was with Andy and Quynh. One goodbye now, when there was no resentment and no hatred, was a lot easier than waiting it out. 

She just hoped Nicky would agree. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Palermo’s weather was disappointing to say the least. 

When the ship arrived, a steady rain had begun to fall; drenching rich and poor, young and old alike. It was the sort of rain which, while it wasn’t pouring, had a special way of seeping into one’s bones and eliciting a special kind of chill. 

Nicky wrapped an arm around Joe’s shoulder and held him close as they disembarked. Thankfully, everyone seemed too preoccupied with finishing their business and getting inside to throw any odd looks the couple’s way. 

Joe, for his part, was enjoying the rain the same way a child enjoyed a festival. 

“We’ll catch our death out here.” Nicky warned. “Let’s hurry and find a place to stay, shall we?” 

“I’ve been living in a desert for years.” Jafar tilted his head back to catch raindrops on his face. “Don’t ruin this for me.” 

“You’re human, and humans get sick.” Nicky ushered him along. 

“You’re human, too. In fact, of the two of us, which one has a stab wound?” 

Nicky was about to continue their usual banter when someone caught his eye. A young woman was approaching them, obviously trying to conceal herself among the crowd. She was small in stature, though not petite, and her long dark hair was kept in a sensible plait. She looked so familiar…

Nicky tried to keep his pace even so as not to alarm Joe. It was probably a coincidence. Lots of people were going to same way as them. The woman was probably just desperate to find shelter. What interest would she have in two practically anonymous men from out of town? 

He spared another glance back. This time, Jafar sensed something was amiss. 

“Are we being followed?” He asked calmly. 

“I believe so.” 

“Crusaders?” 

“No. It’s a woman.” 

“Oh. Someone from your past?” 

Nicky poked him in the side, playfully. “I’ve never met her. I think she’s just—“ 

It suddenly struck Nicky why the woman looked familiar. 

It wasn’t possible, was it? People couldn’t just walk out of dreams. Coincidences like this were one in a billion! 

It was definitely one of the women from Nicky’s dream. Not the excessively tall one; her shorter but equally ferocious partner. 

“Excuse me?” 

Nicky turned back and stopped on a dime, nearly running into the excessively tall one. This was all starting to feel like a fever-induced hallucination. He expected to suddenly wake up at home, sweating to death surrounded by his family. One thing was for sure. If Nicky hadn’t been focused on clinging to Joe, he would have fainted. 

“My name is Andromache.” The woman said. “We need to talk. Now.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm happier with this chapter than I was with the last one! 
> 
> Not much to say. Andy and Quynh make their first attempt at explaining what's going on, and it...goes as it goes.

To say the conversation hadn’t gone well was an understatement. Joe was proud of Nicky for standing his ground, but he had to admit there was a moment when that damned stubborn streak looked like it would get them both killed. 

Or…if Andromache was to be believed, would get Joe killed while Nicky came out just fine.  
——————————————————————————————————————————

The rain, so unfamiliar to Joe and yet so welcome, should have been a clue that things were about to change. In his life, he’d seen only a handful of rainstorms. One freak monsoon during Jafar’s teen years had nearly blown Agrabah off the map. A steady rain, like the one that greeted Nicky and him in Palermo, was worth slowing down to appreciate. 

Then, they’d shown up. 

Andy had beckoned Joe and Nicky to follow her, then set off without a word as to where they were going. The other woman (she introduced herself as Quynh) had stayed behind them, guiding them like a shepherd through the crowds. At some point, Joe broke away from Nicky and fell back; feeling compelled to talk to Quynh in case she was willing to offer any information. 

“I’m assuming I need no introduction.” He began. 

Quynh shook her head. “I’ve heard your name a few times. Although, I believe he recently changed it.” 

“I changed his, first.” 

She cracked a smile at this. “I know. Truth be told, the dreams pulled us out of a very difficult place.” 

“So you’ve both been dreaming about him? This really isn’t an elaborate scheme?” 

“Don’t take this personally, but neither of you looks wealthy enough to rob.” 

Joe started to relax a little. Quynh was proving surprisingly easy to talk to. “We travel smart.” He explained. “Never stay in one place for too long, try not to stand out, leave quickly if there’s trouble.” 

“She’s the same way.” Quynh nodded toward Andromache. “It can get tedious sometimes.” 

“The trick is to find the right partner.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” 

From the look on her face, Joe knew she understood the hidden double meaning. He wondered how similar Quynh and Andromache’s situation was to his and Nicky’s. They had to be closer than friends, right? If everything Nicky had seen in his dreams really happened, two people didn’t come through that sort of life with a mere friendship. 

Nicky had said once that they looked like a family; three people who had spent their whole lives together instead of three strangers at the mercy of limited time. 

“When they lost Lykon,” he’d been close to tears, “it was like they were watching their own brother die. I’ve never felt misery like it before.” 

returning to the present, Joe noticed Nicky flexing his hand. This was a tell, normally, that Nicky wasn’t entirely comfortable with a situation. Joe took the hand in his own. “You’ve seen battle,” he teased, “and this is what makes you anxious?” 

“It’s not the first time we’ve been escorted somewhere by strangers.” Nicky recalled. “Last time, I got stabbed.” 

“Let me do the planning, then.” 

“Joe.” Nicky’s voice became stern. “I need to know something, in case this goes bad.” 

“Anything.” 

“Was it real?” 

“Was what real?” 

“The parrot.” 

“Okay,” Joe rolled his eyes as Nicky started to laugh, “you’re not funny. You’re not.” 

Quynh joined in the laughter. Nicky gestured to her. “She thinks I am.” 

“She’s the only one.” 

Andromache’s comment startled Joe a little. He could see that the corner of her mouth was turned up a bit; a smile he suspected did not come all that often. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Quynh maneuvered past Nicky and Joe to Andromache’s side. “Have you figured out where we’re taking them, yet?” She asked. It had been a toss-up between their rooms at the nobleman’s home or a little grassy area Andromache had found yesterday. On one hand, the rooms were secure. They could lock the doors so the servants wouldn’t interrupt. On the other hand, Andromache and Quynh didn’t want this to feel like a hostage situation. 

They agreed Nicky had to come to the decision on his own. They would do their best to push him in the right direction, but they wouldn’t force anything. 

Andromache had been the first to remark on the feelings of affection which permeated every dream in which Nicky AND Joe were featured. The two men were connected by a cord near-impossible to sever. 

They were in love. The kind which, if one never experienced it, didn’t seem to exist in the real world. 

The only way Nicky would leave Joe behind would be if he chose to do so. 

“We’re taking them to the field.” Andromache stated. “He’ll need a clear head.”   
“Are you as worried as I am?” 

“Seeing them together?” She paused. “If I wasn’t, I certainly am now.” 

“You think he’ll refuse?” 

“Wouldn’t you?” 

Quynh thought back to when Andromache had found her. They had taken a while to get used to each other. Two strong personalities often did, especially when they both knew they had little choice but to stay together. 

When you’ve spent so long thinking you’re the only one going through something, it can be live-saving when you learn someone else is going through it, too. 

Even when Andromache and Quynh had been sick of each other, neither had left. 

Neither one of them ever wanted to go back to being alone. 

Slowly, reluctant acceptance became tolerance. Tolerance became friendliness, then fondness, and then affection. By the time Lykon had joined them, they had no problem welcoming him into their family. 

Wouldn’t Quynh refuse to leave the only person she had left? 

Was that even a question? 

Andromache led the way through a series of gates which became smaller and less decorative as they progressed. What Quynh hoped Nicky and Joe noticed was the way the ground had begun to incline. One very special characteristic of this “field” was that it wasn’t a field at all. It was a hill with a slope so gentle that one never felt that one was climbing until they suddenly saw a view below them. 

The buildings became fewer and further between, the ambient sounds fell away as foliage emerged to muffle it, and all too soon, they’d reached a spot Andromache had dubbed (upon finding it accidentally) her new favorite place in the world. 

Quynh fell back again, delighted to see that Nicky and Joe seemed equally as charmed with this secret paradise. Good. Hopefully, they could all have a reasonable conversation. 

“I should start,” Andromache turned to face the group, “by warning you.” She turned to Joe. “You’re only involved BECAUSE you’re involved. If I had it my way, you wouldn’t be privy to this conversation.” 

“If it’s such a secret,” Joe replied, “why let me come along at all?” 

“For one thing, Quynh insisted. For another, I suspect your partner would have refused had we asked him when he was alone.” 

“We also,” Quynh added emphatically, “know you can be trusted to keep a secret. Don’t we?” 

“That’s an argument we decided not to have. It’s a moot point, in any case.” 

“Why’s that?” Nicky asked, warily. 

“Because if he doesn’t keep it a secret,” Andromache kept her attention on Joe, “we’ll be back to return the favor.” 

“We’re done here.” Nicky placed a hand on Joe’s arm and they started to leave. Quynh placed herself in their path. 

“Please,” she begged, “stay. Hear us out.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, very soon you’ll understand our concern.” Andromache asserted. 

Quynh was used to her way of speaking. Andromache didn’t believe in sugar-coating anything. They’d crossed paths with too many people who, upon seeing or hearing about their…gift…had tried to exploit it. Some people were even afraid because of it. The threat was blunt, and Nicky’s reaction was to be expected; however, it was nothing short of the truth. 

Joe gave Nicky a comforting nod, and they turned back to Andromache. 

“I appreciate the trust.” Joe tried to act as a peacekeeper. “I won’t repeat what I hear to another living soul.” 

“How much do you know already?” Quynh took a seat on a nearby boulder. 

“If my dreams are accurate,” Nicky answered, “you two are some sort of immortals?” 

“Not quite.” Andromache moved to Quynh’s side and leaned against a tree. “We learned a while ago that there’s a limit.” 

“I saw that. The man on the battlefield. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Lykon was the last person we found who could heal like we did.” Quynh stared down at her lap. “We don’t know how old he was, except he used to tell us he remembered when speech developed. We always considered that he might be joking…” 

“He had to be.” Joe interjected. “Nobody can live that long. It’s impossible.” 

Andromache let out what was either a cough or a laugh. Quynh looked up at her, waiting for her to say something. It had been a running joke between the three of them; never saying how long they’d lived or how old they each were. Every so often, one of them would claim to have been around when something was invented. Lykon had allegedly seen the beginning of human speech. Andromache had once claimed that she’d helped invent the wheel. 

Now, she noticed Quynh nonverbally egging her on. With a good-natured scoff and a shove of Quyhn’s shoulder, Andromache caved. “It’s not impossible.” She argued, “It just doesn’t happen that often. In the hundreds of years that I’ve walked this Earth, it’s only happened three times. Or, I guess four now.” 

Andromache and Quynh turned their attention to Nicky. The color drained from his face as it sunk in what they were saying. “What,” he jeered, “you think I’m going to live for hundreds of years? That’s insane! Why…none of this makes any sense! How does this explain why you’ve both been in my head?!” 

“I dreamt about Andromache before we met.” Quynh explained. “She dreamt about me.” 

“Lykon dreamt about both of us.” Andromache added. “And we dreamt about him.” 

“After that, we didn’t see anyone else. Until you.” 

“Until me…” Nicky didn’t appear to be focusing on anything in particular. His eyes almost seemed to glaze over at the magnitude of what was happening. 

Guilt twisted in Quynh’s stomach. She and Adromache had just flipped this man’s life on its head. Perhaps it was best to give him some time before mentioning the larger implications. 

Andromache had a different idea. “Over time, living among the rest of the world will become less and less of an option. We need you to come with us now, alone, before someone else finds you.” 

At that, Nicky snapped out of his trance. As if he hadn’t heard Andromache at all, he turned to Joe and plastered on painfully fake optimism. “Joe, the rain’s finally stopped. Are you ready to continue on?” 

“Nicky,” Joe placed his hands on Nicky’s shoulders to keep him steady, “you should listen. If this is real, and you’re in danger—“ 

“It’s not.” Nicky cut him off. “None of it is. I’m done talking about it.” 

They walked off together, leaving Andromache and Quynh to consider their options. Nicky’s first death was coming. Quynh could feel it like a ticking clock in her mind. He wouldn’t be able to deny this much longer. “What do we do now?” She asked. 

“We stay close to him.” Andromache replied. “We make sure we’re there when it happens.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

To say the conversation hadn’t gone well was an understatement. Joe was proud of Nicky for standing his ground, but he had to admit there was a moment when that damned stubborn streak looked like it would get them both killed. 

Or…if Andromache was to be believed, would get Joe killed while Nicky came out just fine.

They had both gotten out alive, but Nicky was badly shaken. 

In the confines of the claustrophobic boarding room they’d chosen, Joe could practically hear Nicky’s thoughts. They seemed to burst out of his ears and hit the walls; choruses of “live for hundreds of years” and “come with us now, alone.” 

He wanted to give Nicky space. After their spat on the ship, Joe knew that was the best course of action. That was why he was standing in a corner while Nicky was sat on the edge of the bed. 

Well, that and Joe wasn’t sure the ancient-looking thing could take much more weight before it broke. 

“I’ll see if there’s another room.” He offered. “I don’t want you to feel crowded.” 

“Don’t.” Nicky sounded exhausted. “Don’t, Joe.” 

“You don’t need me hovering right now.” 

“No! You’re exactly what I need right now! I can’t…Jafar, I can’t…” 

Ouch. Real name. Nicky really was in terrible shape.

Joe sat down next to him (there was a crack from the wood beneath them) and pulled him into an embrace. Nicky was trembling like a leaf. “I’m not going with them!” He exclaimed. “I can’t keep doing this! First my family, now you?! No, it’s not happening! I’m not losing anyone else, Joe! I’m NOT!!” 

“I know, Baby,” Joe held him tighter. “I know.” 

A little voice in Joe’s head piped up that that may not be Nicky’s choice to make in the end. 

That little voice, and whatever force of destiny was barreling toward them, could come and fight Joe if they wanted Nicky so badly. 

He wasn’t giving up the man he loved without bloodshed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to write a sad chapter: 
> 
> -Put on Arcade by Duncan Lawrence   
> -Try not to think about what you're putting the characters you love through  
> -Think about it anyway
> 
> I wish I could say the hard part is over, but we have at least one more hard part to get through. Also I know I mentioned a poll earlier. That won't be necessary. I figured it out. 
> 
> Almost done! Just a few more chapters to go!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter this time! I've been crazy busy since I got to MA, but I didn't want to leave you all with nothing.

Despite the comfort of his surroundings, Nicky couldn’t make himself fall asleep that night. Usually, all it took was a blanket and the feeling of Joe in his arms to calm him. An unmatched serenity would settle over him, anchored in place by the knowledge that he’d found the one person he could count on waking up to every morning. 

That serenity was missing, tonight. It had taken with it the certainty of Nicky’s future with Joe. 

Because Nicky didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want anything more than to settle down and live an unknown life. 

But he suspected that that wouldn’t be possible anymore. 

Andromache’s words sounded ludicrous. Living for centuries? Never aging? Healing at an unfathomable rate? Those were elements of myth; hyperbolic mechanisms storytellers used to make their characters larger than life. This was reality! People bled, aged, and died! 

So then, why was Nicky even entertaining the possibility that it was all true? 

He entertained it because he’d begun to feel changes within himself. From the moment he had woken up in Jafar’s mother’s house, once the pain from his wound finally began to subside, he’d felt…stronger. It wasn’t a spiritual strength or an emotional strength; it was entirely physical. Basic human needs had become less dire. While hunger still came as usual, Nicky no longer experienced it as pains in his stomach. It felt more like a habit, or a requirement on the level of bathing. Thirst, fatigue, and muscle strain were also slightly muted. 

Nicky couldn’t deny he felt different these days. 

Had Joe felt this way when he’d had the powers of the genie? Had a small part of him felt…unbreakable? 

Overcome, Nicky decided he needed some air. Moving carefully so as to not disturb Joe, he climbed out of bed and threw on enough clothes to be counted as decent should he run into anyone on his walk. 

Just a quick lap, he told himself, until my head is cleared. I must be back before Joe wakes up. 

Outside, the night air was warm and slightly heavy. Humidity clung to every surface in little droplets and the cobblestoned ground was slippery with puddles. Everything was to still out here; so silent. 

Too silent. 

Halfway through his stroll, Nicky turned back the way he’d come. This was doing nothing to put his thoughts in order! The only thing he could focus on was the fact that there was nothing out here to focus on! 

”Unnerving, I know.” A female voice called from an alleyway, “It feels like all of Palermo is holding its breath. Like it’s waiting for something.” 

“Quynh.” Nicky greeted her. “I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” 

“Andromache and I aren’t done here.” Quynh approached him. “She doesn’t like how things were concluded today. She doesn’t think you really understand.” 

“I’m in danger. That’s not new for me.” 

“You’ve never faced danger like this.” 

“I’ve been in war.” 

Quynh took Nicky by the arm and started walking in a new direction. Alright, he would give her a few minutes of his time. Joe tended to be a late riser, anyway. “When my…ability…first presented itself,” she began, “I didn’t pay it much mind. I was more fortunate than most. I could take on more responsibilities for my family. I was naive, like you.” 

“What happened?” Nicky asked. 

“Eventually, people started to notice.” She hesitated before speaking again. “When I outlived my parents, nobody batted an eye. I outlived my sister, they thought she’d gotten sick. I outlived my brothers, and people started making accusations. Some believed I was a murderer. Some thought I had magic. Everyone wanted something from me.”

Nicky could guess where she was going with this. “Joe doesn’t want anything from me.” 

“Let me finish. Everyone wanted something. Most of them just wanted me gone.” Quynh paused again. “I had a best friend. She was like my sister. We would have given our lives for each other. When I was exiled, she was the first to push me toward the wilderness.” 

“I’m telling you, Joe is different!” 

“No-one is different, Nicky!” Quynh stopped walking and faced him. “Everyone fears death in some capacity. When they see those of us who look like we’ve beaten it, they become envious! That doesn’t make them bad people, but they are still people! When your Joe is old and in pain, do you really think he’ll be happy to see you unblemished by time? When his bones begin to ache, do you think he’ll be able to resist hating you because you’ll never feel that pain?” 

A seed of doubt began to grow in Nicky’s mind. He shook his head, trying to get rid of it. “He’ll love me, no matter what. He’s incapable of bitterness.” Nicky knew that was a lie. In his head, he completed the sentence. Joe was incapable of bitterness toward HIM. 

“What about when he dies?” Quynh went for the jugular. “When you’re forced to bury him, you will be doing so alone. Come with us and you’ll have two companions for life. You’ll never bury another friend.” 

“Didn’t you and Andromache bury Lykon?” 

Nicky knew that was cruel to bring up, but then so was Quynh for trying to use Joe’s death to manipulate him. 

Before she could respond, a whip of smoke caught both their attentions; as did the fact that the stillness of the evening had been shattered by nearby shouting and calls for help. Nicky and Quynh exchanged startled glances before running in the direction of the disturbance. 

It didn’t take them long to find it. 

Just beyond the perimeters of the city, at the point when the buildings became smaller and further apart, a house had become engulfed in flames. A crowd had already gathered, and while some good Samaritans had brought along buckets of water, it was obvious there was nothing much that could be done. The saving grace was that the structure stood alone. By some miracle, there were no large trees in close proximity, and no other houses near enough to be at risk. 

A woman in the crowd hurried up to Quynh and Nicky. “There’s an elderly couple in there!!” She shouted, frantically. “Nobody knows if they got out!!” 

“We’re here to help.” Quynh assured her. The woman rejoined the crowd. 

“How are we supposed to help?” Nicky searched for guidance. 

“I’ll go in and search for the couple.” Quynh sounded confident. “You stay close and keep everyone else from interfering. 

“What if you get trapped?!” 

She ignored him and charged into the burning house. Nicky could hear the onlookers’ horrified reactions. He wanted to trust Quynh. She seemed to know what she was doing! Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t be in there alone. 

He gave her a minute. A minute and a half passed. Two minutes followed. 

Nicky made up his mind. 

Inside was a maze of flames and thick black smoke. He had his shirt pulled up to cover his nose and mouth. He felt like he was choking anyway. 

Nicky found Quynh helping an old woman off the floor. She gave him a look of mingled disbelief and pride. 

“I can’t find the husband!!” She called over the din. 

“Get her out!!” Nicky shouted back, “I’ll find him!!” 

Quynh nodded and pulled the old woman out of the house. 

Nicky tried to make his search as thorough as possible; however, the smoke and heat were starting to get to him. Where could this old man be?! This was a small house! There weren’t many places to look! 

Finally, Nicky couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get himself out while that was still an option. He had to get back to Joe! He had to—

Time slowed to a crawl. 

The beam fell, pinning Nicky to the floor. 

His vision cut out. 

His breathing all but stopped.   
There was a searing pain. 

Then, there was no feeling at all. 

Nicky couldn’t have known it. If he had, he would have taken comfort in knowing his suffering was only brief. 

He was dead before he knew he was dying. 

He was alive again before it had time to register that he’d died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! This is THE death! Nicky's a fully initiated Guard now! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know it was super short! I promise I'll write longer in the coming days! Right now, my priorities include this story, my four-month-old rescue kitten, and working three jobs; so my time management has been a bit screwy. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of it all so far! I love hearing from you guys!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter like I promised! Complete with blossoming friendships!

It wasn’t the first time Joe had woken to find Nicky gone. The difference was this time, the options for where he could have gone were nigh unlimited. Before, their movements had been limited to the confines of a ship. 

Before, Nicky hadn’t had someone else trying to lure him away. 

He wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, would he? Nicky wouldn’t be that cruel! If he’d decided to seek out Quynh and Andromache, if he’d changed his mind about joining them, he would have given Joe closure first. 

Unless he’d deemed this the kinder option. 

Unless Nicky really couldn’t stand another goodbye. 

Joe’s heart was beating so quickly that he feared it might stop. As he stepped outside, the sound drowned out everything else. People hurried past him, shouted to each other, life went on all around him while his own had ground to a screeching halt. He stumbled past the untroubled faces and carefree souls to the dockyard; where just yesterday, he’d been one of them. Twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t had a worry in the world. He’d had everything he ever wanted. 

There were ships tied up at the docks, but none of them were the one he and Nicky had arrived on. When had that one been scheduled to leave next? Had its crew been planning to stay in Palermo for a while? 

Joe asked anyone who looked like they might know. Nobody was any help. He was starting to consider it a fool’s errand when by chance, he ran into the navigator Nicky had befriended. 

“You!!” Joe grabbed the man’s shoulder to get his attention. “Your ship. When did it leave?” 

“I beg your pardon?” The man looked frightened. 

“Your vessel!! It isn’t here!! When did it leave?!” 

“First thing this morning, why?” 

“Why did you stay behind?” 

“My contract was up! They found a replacement just before they left!” 

“Who was it?” The answer didn’t come quickly enough. Joe shook the man, “WHO WAS IT?!” 

“I DON’T KNOW!!” 

Joe pushed the man away and stormed off. The ship wasn’t here and neither was Nicky. Three options remained: he was still in Palermo, he’d found Quynh and Andromache, or he’d taken the navigator’s place. 

Those last two…if it was either of those…

Joe tried to remember the way to the hill Andromache had shown them. How many turns had there been? Was it a right up here, or a left? Or was it a straight shot? Had they gone through this gate or that one? Did that shopfront look familiar? 

Right here was where Nicky had asked about the parrot. That damned smile had a funny way of making Joe feel weak at the knees every time, no matter how often he saw it. He’d never answered the question because he never wanted Nicky to stop asking. 

He’d spend every second answering Nicky’s questions if it meant they’d be together again.

Joe had been cautious, initially. He had never wanted to come across as needy or clingy. He’d been careful not to smother Nicky too much; even taking a step back when he was coming to terms with the last goodbye to his family. 

Nicky was his own person. Joe loved him for that. 

Right now though, Joe needed him here. Last night, they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. It’d been like the entire day had never happened. Nicky had drifted off with that little smile on his face. Joe had made sure he didn’t cry himself to sleep. The worst dreams came from a mind in turmoil, and Nicky needed a good night’s rest. 

Hadn’t they been happy last night? Hadn’t everything been okay? 

Joe couldn’t find the hill. He’d gotten himself lost looking for it. 

What if Nicky was there? 

Why would he be? Joe thought. 

What if he’d met Quynh and Andromache there? 

What if he was waiting? 

A shadow caught Joe’s attention. Someone stood in the shade of a nearby building. It wasn’t Nicky, this figure was tall and female.   
The temper Joe had been guided by in his past life flared back from dormancy. 

Andromache was watching him. 

She was smiling. 

As if she had the right to be amused by what she’d ruined. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky came to in the ruins of the burned-out house. 

The beam which had been crushing his torso had become as fragile as glass. It took little effort to crawl out from under it, and once it hit the floor it crumbled into fragments of ash. Nicky coughed from the resulting cloud and climbed to his feet. Everything around him was destroyed. How was he unharmed? 

He remembered pain, the beam trapping him, and going blind as the air left his body. He remembered losing consciousness. His last thought had been of Joe; how hard this would be for him, how Nicky had worried in reverse. 

He’d started to dread having to plan Joe’s funeral one day. It turned out Joe would have to plan his. 

Was that irony? Or just the universe playing a sick joke? 

It didn’t matter now. Nicky was alive. No funerals today. He’d find Joe and they would leave Palermo. Nothing good had found them here. It was time to find a real place to build a home.

Nicky made his way out of the ruins. He groaned when he saw Quynh waiting for him. 

She was sat cross-legged on the grass, staring at the house intently. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she saw him; like she’d been expecting him. Did she know what had happened? Nicky suspected she did. 

“I appreciate the rescue attempt.” He greeted her sarcastically. “I’m sure you went to a lot of trouble.” 

“The house came down around you.” Quynh sounded genuinely apologetic. “I wanted to go in once I realized you were stuck. There were just too many witnesses.” 

“Too many witnesses to what?” 

“Oh. It hasn’t hit you, yet.” Quynh waited until Nicky sat down in front of her. “The crowd knew there was no way you survived that collapse. They also knew I wouldn’t survive running back inside. From the state of me when I brought that woman out, I’m surprised more people weren’t suspicious.” 

“If there was no way for me to survive the collapse,” Nicky questioned her, “how am I alive right now?” 

“You didn’t survive.” 

Nicky blinked. “Yes,” he spoke slowly, “I did.” 

Quynh fell silent. Without explanation, she reached for a little sheath on her belt and pulled out what appeared to be a sharpened letter opener. “I hoped you wouldn’t need this.” She whined. “Andromache thought you might. I thought you’d be more of a believer.” 

She flicked the blade across Nicky’s arm. He jumped up, yelping in pain and waiting for the blood to run. 

It didn’t. 

The amount he shed was no more than what he’d lost the first time he’d tried shaving with his father’s strait-razor. More dizzying was the fact that his wound was closing up before his very eyes. Quynh nodded, only marginally impressed. “You’re healing faster than I did.” She remarked. “Are you starting to understand now? What we told you yesterday, what we tried to explain, there’s the evidence. You’re one of us.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Joe didn’t have a concrete plan. He had nothing to say to Andromache; nothing polite, at least. He hadn’t held anything against her yesterday. She was on a mission and he respected that. 

Her mistake had been causing so much turmoil in Nicky. She should have left him and Joe alone. Quynh had said she’d seen Joe when she dreamed of Nicky. She should have seen that they didn’t need interference. Andromache had, presumably, had the same dreams. 

They’d thrown stones into that tranquil lake, anyway. Now, Joe and Nicky were caught in a ripple effect and Nicky was missing. 

Joe didn’t know if it made him happy or beside himself that Nicky wasn’t at Andromache’s side. 

“You’re up early.” She stepped out of the shadows. “How did you two sleep last night?” 

“Where is he?” 

Andromache’s casual smile faded. “Who?” 

“Don’t mistake me for a fool.” Joe got in her face. “Nicky wasn’t in our room this morning. You’re the only other person he knows in Palermo. Where is he?!” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Stop lying!!”   
“I’m not!!” She exclaimed. “I haven’t seen him since you two left the hill yesterday!!” There was a pause. Joe could tell Andromache was telling the truth. “I’m looking for someone, too.” She continued. “Quynh went out last night and never came back.” 

Joe felt his anger slowly fade away. Andromache’s true feelings were starting to emerge. She looked like she’d been out all night, and despite her best attempts to prevent it, her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Why had she been smiling, then? 

“Forgive me.” Joe took a step back. “I just thought you might be mocking me. You seemed amused before.” 

“I wasn’t.” She replied. “Believe it or not, I was happy to see you. I hoped you might have seen her.” 

“No, I haven’t.” Joe had a thought. “Maybe they found each other.” 

“Let’s hope that’s the case.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky and Quynh made their way back toward the city. They barely spoke to each other. Nicky couldn’t even look at Quynh without remembering the words “lived for a hundred years.” He almost vomited when he imagined himself living that long. 

It was going to happen. There was no running away. 

Nicky was immortal. 

His worst nightmare had come true. 

“Are you alright?” Quynh eventually asked. 

“No.” Nicky admitted. 

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” 

“That’s my business.”

They reentered the city. Quynh suddenly gasped and cursed under her breath. “Andromache!” She exclaimed! “She was expecting me back before sunrise! Oh, I hope she hasn’t done anything rash!” 

Nicky suddenly realized. “Oh no, Joe’s going to be furious!” 

“How long did you say you’d be gone?” 

“I didn’t. I left while he was asleep.” 

“Well then.” Quynh cracked a smile. “You’ll certainly have plenty to explain.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Where were you?" There was a fight on a train, then I got sick (migraines)
> 
> "Is this chapter longer than the others?" Yes. 
> 
> "It's sad, isn't it?" Stop asking questions and read.

Andy would have a few choice words when she saw Quynh again. 

If there was one thing she was better at than fighting, it was lecturing; and Quynh had broken their cardinal rule. 

No going off on your own. We travel together. If there’s danger, we face it as one. 

To be fair, Quynh hadn’t known what would happen last night. It wasn’t like she’d gone looking for the house fire. She’d only intended to be gone two hours tops. 

If anything, it was Nicky’s fault. Quynh would pin everything on him if things got messy. 

Stupid Nicky, being easy to hold a conversation with and sharing her eagerness to help whenever possible. 

Still, it was nice to have a new friend. Everything was new to him. Nicky wasn’t jaded, yet. Now that he was slowly coming to terms with the circumstances, he was all too eager to ask question after question. Nothing was off-limits. It was like explaining religion to a child. Quynh only wished she had more answers for him. She had a good handle on things. Dying and coming back had lost their novelty a few rotations ago and injuries were as much a part of her life as they were for anyone else. Yes, she still had basic human needs. No, she hadn’t lost the ability to empathize with “regular” people (what a painfully human thing to ask), and no, she didn’t know how many times someone like them could come back. 

“I know it’s a delicate subject.” Nicky backtracked. 

“It’s necessary, though.” Quynh allowed. “When you’re suddenly faced with an eternity, it’s natural to wonder when it’ll end.” 

Quynh often felt like she’d been dropped in the middle of a very frustrating riddle. How did one maintain a fulfilling life when one's life would seemingly never be fulfilled? Was she really living forever, or would she reach a point where life lost meaning and faded into nothing beyond existence? Why her? Why now? How should she feel about it? 

For years, she had felt like a freak. The whispers that followed her once people started noticing chipped away at her self-esteem until there was none left. In the end, being exiled had saved her. 

If she hadn’t been sent away, she never would have met Andromache. 

Andromache who, thankfully, had no more answers for Quynh than Quynh had for Nicky. It was comforting to have someone to stumble into darkness with. At least Quynh hadn’t missed anything. She and Andromache were able to start their adventure on the same footing.

“When exactly,” Nicky’s next question brought her back to reality, “did you and Andromache start dreaming of me?

“The first thing we saw was you getting stabbed.” Quynh remembered. “By the way, whatever you were trying to do wasn’t worth it.” 

Nicky smiled. “It was. If you two have really seen all you claim to, you’ll know it was.” 

Quynh shrugged. The dream had been vague in everything beyond the dagger entering Nicky’s body. She couldn’t see where he was or why, nor could she discern why he’d thrown himself at a random soldier. 

Most of Quynh’s dreams about Nicky lacked context. The universe (if it was to blame) had no interest in excess details. See what you need to get the job done. Let nothing distract you. 

The only extra part of the dreams had been Joe. He wasn’t in all of them, only most of them. As far as Quynh knew, this was simply another question without an answer. When prompted about what his presence could mean, Andromache had said she didn’t know. 

“When I dreamt of you,” she’d told Quynh, “I saw people around you but I couldn’t see their faces. They were blurry; like they didn’t matter. You were the only one I saw clearly.” 

That wasn’t the case with Nicky and Joe. They appeared in dreams together with equally clear features. 

“Do you think,” Quynh had asked, “could both of them…?” 

“We haven’t had any dreams of Jafar on his own.” Andromache had dismissed the idea. “Nicolo is the only one we should be focusing on right now.” 

Quynh hadn’t been able to shake the question. Was there some sort of rule that only one person at a time could gain pseudo-immortality? If two people were close enough, if they had a strong enough bond…

She decided not to broach the topic. It was best not to get Nicky’s hopes up. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

“There they are!” 

“Does Joe look mad?” 

“He’s covered in soot. Why is he covered in soot?” 

“He doesn’t. Andromache does, though.” 

“QUYNH!!” 

Even though the shout wasn’t directed at him, Nicky still flinched. Andromache looked absolutely furious. The hug she pulled Quynh into looked far too tight to be comforting. It was reminiscent of a serpent crushing the life from prey. 

Nicky’s own reckoning wasn’t much easier. 

At least Joe’s right hook was coming along nicely. His form had improved since the last time they’d sparred. 

“Joe, I’m sorry!” Nicky said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Something distracted me!” 

“Where and why, Nicky?” Joe sounded deeply hurt. “No note, no explanation, not even a goodbye?!” 

“I didn’t expect to be gone long. It wasn’t worth disturbing you.” 

“You reek of wood smoke.” Nicky heard Andromache scold Quynh. “Where the Hell have you been?!” 

Quynh and Nicky exchanged glances. Neither wanted to be the one to relay the previous night’s events. Their partners were already upset. Hearing that they’d charged into a burning building would send both Joe and Andromache right over the edge. 

Especially since Nicky had technically died. 

Quynh whispered something in Andromache’s ear that made her anger transform into reluctant understanding. “I had to stay.” Quynh stepped back. “When I saw the roof come down and he was still inside—“ 

“Excuse me?” Joe’s head whipped around to glare at her. “WHO was still inside?!” 

Nicky said “me” at the same time Quynh tried to cover for him with “just an old man.” It was obvious from the state of Nicky’s clothes who was telling the truth. 

“You became trapped in a burning building.” Andromache started circling Nicky. He felt like he was being appraised. “Yet, you don’t have a scratch on you. How did it happen? Were you burned?” 

“No,” Nicky replied, “not at first. A beam fell on me. I couldn’t get out from under it.” 

“What do you remember after that?” 

“I woke up. The beam was destroyed. I felt fine, so I walked out.” 

“I’m missing something.” Joe interjected. “Nicky, what is going on?!” 

“He died in a fire last night.” Andromache made it sound so typical. “It’s become a rite of passage among us: the first death, which proves what we are beyond a shadow of a doubt.” 

The news settled on Joe like a ton of bricks. Shock, confusion, relief, and pain were all at war behind his eyes. Nicky wished, not for the first time today, that he’d stayed in bed last night; especially when Joe asked, in a voice made impossibly small by the barrage of emotions, “You died?”   
——————————————————————————————————————————

It was rare that one night changed so many minds at one time. 

Nicky hadn’t wanted to leave Joe. He’d rejected every future that saw them part from each other. He still hated the idea, but now…

Sticking around to watch the love of his life slowly die was infinitely worse. 

Joe had wanted Nicky to stay whether he was immortal or not. They could protect each other, as they always had. 

Except now, he recognized that he wouldn’t be part of Nicky’s new forever. Eventually, Nicky would outlive him. If Joe held Nicky back from the opportunity to travel with Andromache and Quynh…

What did it say about him if he’d rather Nicky spend eternity alone? This way, at least, he would have people to lean on. 

Even Andromache was having doubts. This was uncharted territory for her. Quynh and Lykon had come into her life without unfinished business. They’d be alone; free to become her companions without leaving loved ones behind. She’d known they were meant to be her family, and they’d known it, too. 

Nicky already had a family. Was it really her place to ask him to abandon it? 

Everything was out in the open. There were no more unanswered questions; no more “maybe nots” or “could be’s.” The last step Nicky had to make was his and his alone. Deep down, he knew he had to take it. Leaving was more humane. 

It was also more painful. 

So, he made a simpler decision first. He decided to take Joe back to the boarding house. 

He decided they should spend as much time together as they could. 

Anything either of them had to say would be said in confidence. 

Once Nicky and Joe were behind closed doors, the composure they’d both been fighting to keep broke apart. Joe grabbed Nicky into a hug. Nicky flinched as he felt the tears against his shirt. He reciprocated. His own left little dark circles on Joe’s shoulder. 

“You…you have to go with them.” Joe whispered. “I know you do.” 

“I still don’t want to.” 

“I don’t think what we want matters, anymore.” 

“There has to be another way.” Nicky pulled back, keeping his hands on Joe’s waist. “It can’t be this simple. It can’t just end.” They’d only just started. Months of falling in love couldn’t have been for nothing. Joe had become Nicky’s whole world. If he wasn’t meant to be Nicky’s soulmate, why had the universe allowed him to become so central in Nicky’s life? Why did Nicky feel like he’d known Joe since childhood? Why had he been allowed to dream of their life together? 

If it wasn’t destiny, why was it killing Nicky to let Joe go? 

“You’ll be fine.” Joe tried to force a smile. “That…that irritating sense of humor will get you through. You’d have an easy life based on your charm alone. You don’t—“ 

“Don’t say I don’t need you.” Nicky stopped him. “Don’t you say that.” 

Joe gave up trying to smile and shook his head as fresh tears came to his eyes. “What am I supposed to say, then? Don’t leave me? Stay in this room? If you take your hands off me I’ll die? If I have to go…go back to who I was, go back to my life before you, I’ll never smile again? What am I supposed to say?! Because I’m trying to convince myself that I’ll be okay once you’re gone, but I know I won’t be!! You’re leaving and you’re taking the best thing that ever happened to me with you!!” 

“Fine, I won’t leave!” Nicky grabbed the excuse. “I’ll stay with you!” 

“YOU CAN’T!!” 

“I KNOW!!!” 

Nicky didn’t want to end things with an argument. There was energy in the air that could be converted to a better use. Knowing it would be his last chance, he pulled Joe in until they were flush against each other and poured all his love and affection into a final kiss. It was desperate and wild, not graceful in the slightest, and it was the best kiss of them all. Nicky wanted it to stay with Joe. He imagined he was gifting Joe a piece of his own soul. That way, Nicky wouldn’t really be leaving entirely. He’d always have a way to find his greatest love again. They would always have something to connect them. 

After all, Nicky wasn’t complete with Joe. And he refused to live an incomplete life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I SWEAR there's a happy ending coming! Just give me a little more time! 
> 
> I'm sure I missed some errors in this chapter, so if you find them let me know. 
> 
> Also, if you want to know the songs I listened to to get in the right head space:   
> -Dynasty by MIIA  
> -Tessa by Steve Jablonsky   
> -Lovers Death and Without You by Ursine Vulpine and Annaca


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist throwing in a little cameo for my fellow history nerds. If you're interested, I highly recommend doing more research on the history of the English monarchy. It's BONKERS!!

One Year Later 

Traveling to England had been…interesting. 

It started with a passing comment from Andromache. A man she had crossed paths with when he was a child had recently been crowned king. “He was always an active child.” She’d reminisced. “There wasn’t a force in the world that could keep him out of the woods.” 

“Aren’t you worried he’ll see you?” Nicky had asked. 

“I’ve been alive since before your grandfather was born.” Andromache had countered. “You think I don’t have concealment down to an art form?” 

Fair enough. 

The weather up North left almost everything to be desired. Even Quynh, who was usually so optimistic, couldn’t resist making a few jabs at the constant rain and unrelenting chill. It was beautiful here, and the scenery was to die for; however, Nicky wouldn’t miss it when it came time to leave. 

Andromache’s friend, on the other hand, was well worth the journey they’d taken. William was his name; William the Second now. Nicky had agreed to be Andromache’s eyes and ears in his court; to get a sense of the sort of man William had grown up to be. 

There had been revolts against him. If he was corrupt, the trio was in a unique position to fix that. If he was simply a good man in a bad position, they’d protect him as much as they could. 

“It’s a favor to his father.” Andromache explained. 

The tone of her voice made it clear this wasn’t up for further discussion. 

A few “chance” encounters and comments made just loudly enough for William to hear, and suddenly Nicky was one of his closest friends. He was a bit dull, as those born into sheltered royalty often were, but he had a good sense of humor and was often content to listen rather than speak. William lamented once that he didn’t have many stories of his own. His father had been a great conqueror and his brother had gone off to join the crusades (Nicky deftly steered him away from that particular topic.) 

“I’m always on the periphery.” William complained. “These uprisings…it sounds terrible, I know; they were the most exciting things to happen in my life in years. A king looks for the ways in which he can leave his mark. Perhaps I haven’t found mine, yet.” 

He found his a few days later, while out hunting. 

Everyone speculated that his brother Henry had had him killed. Nobody dared voice their speculations out loud once Henry took power. 

Andromache, Quynh, and Nicky left England shortly thereafter. 

Even a year after Palermo, Nicky still struggled with boarding ships. He was happy in his new life, he really was. Andromache and Quynh had become his tethers; ports in a storm that never let up. They understood why he kept to himself when at sea. They knew why he examined every face in every new country, city, and village they entered. 

They never pushed the issue further than asking if he was okay once or twice. They always accepted when the answer was no. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Try as he might, Joe couldn’t settle down. 

He couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop living the life he’d had with Nicky. 

On the plus side, he made new friends wherever he went. He educated himself in as many languages and cultures as were available to him. Some days, he even thought he could start to move forward. Did it hurt less than yesterday? Was it becoming easier to breathe? Had he slept more than four hours last night? 

Then, some little thing would cross his path and he’d be back where he started. One day it would be a laugh that sounded too familiar. The next, it would be a word Nicky said in his own unique way. Once, it had even been a spell of warm weather that reminded Joe of how much Nicky hated the cold. 

Joe wondered if Nicky was happy wherever he was. Were Andromache and Quynh picking up on the little quirks that made Nicky so special? Had they grown to care for him the way Joe did? 

They should be friends. Enough time had passed. They should at least be used to each other.

Nicky might even have started forgetting Joe completely. He’d be so busy he wouldn’t have time to dwell on the past. He’d be meeting all sorts of new people, learning new names and faces, and he’d have to make room in his memory for all that information. He’d have to let something go. 

Joe didn’t let any of it go. 

He let himself make new friends. He smiled. He was courteous. 

And when it was time to move on, he severed those ties without hesitation. He didn’t want to be close to anyone else. 

Everything was temporary in Joe’s life. He wanted to keep it that way. 

He wasn’t bitter or angry. He quite enjoyed getting to know most of the strangers who crossed his path. They gave Joe’s life purpose. Everyone had a different story to tell: love and loss, triumphs and victories, babies born and elders buried. It was nice to know everyone else was victimized by the passage of time the same way he’d been. 

It didn’t soften the sting, though. 

Every new country, city, and village he entered, he couldn’t help but look. 

He always, always traveled over land. 

Traveling over water…there were too many ship-related memories for that. Too many big moments had happened while in the middle of an ocean or sea.

Joe preferred being alone. He did. There was nobody to pester him about how he was feeling. Nobody badgered him or asked if he was okay. 

No, he thought. The answer would be no. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

It was just a dream and nothing more. Nicky didn’t tell Quynh or Andromache when it came. It didn’t mean anything. 

Actually, it meant he missed Joe so much he was starting to lose his mind. They didn’t need to hear that. It was Nicky’s problem. Nicky would handle it. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Great, the dreams were starting. 

Joe wouldn’t have minded if they were just about Nicky. Most of them were, but too many also included Quynh and Andromache. 

Joe understood what his subconscious was saying. How could he let them take the love of his life away? Why hadn’t he fought harder to make Nicky stay? 

Because Joe wasn’t selfish. 

If his subconscious would simply quiet down and accept that, he might be able to sleep better. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

“You saw him too,” Quynh cornered Andromache, “didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Andromache admitted, “I saw Joe.” 

“We need to tell Nicky!” 

“Tell him what? Quynh, I want to go looking for Joe, too. The fact is we don’t know where he is! It’s not like last time.” 

“We need to try, Andromache. Look at him.” Quynh turned to Nicky, who was sat by himself once again; pretending to be invested in a map they no longer needed. “He needs this. He needs Joe. I don’t think he can keep pretending he’s not in pain for much longer.” She paused. “What if it was me?” 

Andromache gave in. “Fine.” she relented, “I hope you understand, this won’t be easy. Unless we get lucky, which we never do, it may be a very long time before we track Joe down.” 

“I understand.” 

Andromache smiled as Quynh went to tell Nicky the good news.   
What if it was me? She’d asked.

Andromache would never stop looking. Even if it took all the time she had left. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nobody looked twice at a sleep-deprived man in France. 

Joe learned that on his second day there. He blended in well; hyper-vigilant and at the same time bone-tired, halfway drunk and spoiling for a fight just to take his mind off things. 

The dreams wouldn’t go away. Now, every few nights, he saw the man Andromache and Quynh had lost before they found Nicky. At least when that happened, Joe got a break from his own misery and could tap into somebody else’s. Lykon seemed like he’d been a solid friend to have. Joe wondered if Nicky would have liked him. He probably would. Nicky got along with almost everybody. 

That made the dreams hurt worse; the realization that Nicky might find love again. Joe didn’t want to see his face anymore. He didn’t want to see that smile now that it wouldn’t be directed at him anymore. 

He wanted to move on. 

His mind had other ideas. 

Joe kept it cloudy in order to shut it up. Alcohol was a quick way to find peace and quiet; though lately that particular vice wasn’t working so well. His body metabolized it quicker than normal these days. 

A good brawl would have to do, instead. 

Unfortunately, Joe had forgotten how to start a fight. 

One night, during yet another session of meandering through filthy city streets to keep himself awake, Joe came up with an idea. He remembered once when he was a boy, a scuffle had broken out in front of him between a pickpocket and their mark. Things had gotten out of hand, and the pickpocket had received a beating so brutal Joe’s mother had forced him to look away. 

“Do you know what that man did wrong?” Joe’s father had asked him later on. 

“He tried to steal.” Joe had looked to his mother, who nodded her approval. 

“No! He let himself get caught! He went for a prize he didn’t deserve!” 

I did the same thing, Joe thought to himself as his plan took shape. 

Fortuitously, a very wealthy-looking couple stepped out into his path. Joe could see a silk coin purse hanging from the gentleman’s belt and a large ring on the woman’s left hand. The purse would be easy. It would only take seconds. 

Joe went for the ring. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

“I need your help. I’ve never done this before, I can’t…I can’t get it wrong. If they see—!” 

“Nicky, you don’t have to ask us. We’re at your back just as you’ve been at ours.” 

“I don’t…Andromache, what if I can’t find him in time?” 

“He’ll come back. If you’re not there, Quynh or I will be.” 

It wasn’t a dream this time. It was a nightmare. Nicky had woken up to a pain in his chest that he’d only felt once before; and based on what he’d just seen, he knew why. 

Joe was going to die. 

He was here, in France, closer than he’d been in a year, and he was going to die tonight. 

Quynh and Andromache had woken up barely seconds after Nicky. Both immediately jumped into action, preparing to search for the man they’d all thought they would never see again. Secretly, all three had kept the possibility alive. It was a surprise. 

Just not a particularly big one. 

“We regroup here at sunrise.” Andromache ordered. “Whether we’ve found Joe or not, we meet back here. If we need a new plan, we’ll come up with one.” 

“The important thing is to stay level-headed.” Quynh brought Nicky back to reality. “If you find him and he’s already…well, let’s just say it can be a bit gruesome. Just keep telling yourself it’s temporary.” 

“What if we’re wrong?” Nicky asked. “What if he’s not like us?” 

“Joe seems like an incredible person,” Andromache replied, “but, I have no reason to dream about him under regular circumstances. Quynh?” 

“I’m happy I met him. That’s as strong as our connection gets. This is happening, Nicky.” Quynh reassured him. “Go. He’s waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey! EY! Put those pitchforks down!! Their reunion is coming in the next chapter! 
> 
> As always, if you find any errors, let me know. My motto is I can't get better if I don't know what needs improving. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the journey! There's still more to come! Stick around!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Loves, here it is!! The last chapter in the narrative!! 
> 
> Fear not, I have some filler chapters coming (because history is wild and the Guard deserves to have a little fun) but this will conclude Nicky and Joe's love story (even though nothing will ever conclude it, but you know what I mean) 
> 
> Warnings for a few mentions of blood and injuries, and one mention of throwing up (nothing descriptive, but if you have a thing with words like I do, be forewarned)

Joe could attest to there being a dozen ways to botch a theft. 

A true professional never screwed up the basics. If it involved physical contact, if there were too many mechanics involved, or the crowd wasn’t thick enough, the prize wasn’t worth it. 

Joe would have kept those basics in mind if he’d actually wanted the woman’s ring. Fortunately for her, he was looking to get caught. She could keep her bauble. He wanted a fight. 

That was why Joe didn’t bother with speed. He bumped into the gentleman first, then the lady. He mumbled gibberish to give the impression he was inebriated, grabbed her wrist, and made a show of trying to pull the ring off her finger. 

The stunt worked like a charm. 

Joe allowed the gentleman to beat him till near-unconsciousness. The pain was exquisite; bringing to mind a time when he’d faced similar circumstances in a prison cell. This time, Joe put up enough of a fight to keep things going. He didn’t want the brawl to end before the memories did. 

That was what this was about. He’d been making progress in his battle to live without Nicky; progress which had been completely erased by the dreams that flooded Joe’s mind every time he dared try to get some rest. If those dreams, those moments in time that refused to fade, could somehow be knocked out of him…Joe would sacrifice anything else that was lost along with them. He’d gotten a fresh start so long ago. 

He wanted another one. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Nicky tried to use what he’d seen in his dream. Joe was standing by a large stone building with light-colored wooden doors. He looked like Death made flesh; like he hadn’t been taking care of himself, like he’d been sick recently. 

He’d been fighting someone. That someone had shoved him so violently that he’d fallen and hit his head on the ground. 

Don’t focus on that, Nicky warned himself. Quynh is right, he’ll come back!! 

God, there was so much blood…

What had the area looked like? It looked wealthier than the area Nicky was in. It must be heavily travelled. It would have to be…near the dockyard, maybe? They wouldn’t bother keeping it clean and visually appealing unless it was a hub of some kind. 

He’d be able to see better in the day time. 

Joe couldn’t afford for him to wait, though. 

He needed Nicky at his side. He’d be afraid when he returned. He’d be confused. 

No, not Joe. Not the Joe Nicky had fallen in love with. That Joe would be fascinated. He’d crack some stupid joke and pretend it was no big deal. He’d live his life as if nothing was different. 

He’d been a genie, once. After that, nothing could be surprising. 

Would this be the same Joe? Would whomever Nicky found still turn his face skyward when it rained? Would he still point out the same four constellations every time he saw them? Would he still be a little surprised when Nicky kissed him? How much had he seen in their time apart? Had it changed him at all? 

The dream said it had. Nicky’s Joe wasn’t a thief. Nicky’s Joe would never pick a fight for no reason. 

Perhaps, this wasn’t Nicky’s Joe anymore. 

One way or the other, Nicky had to find him. If it was just so they’d get the chance for a second goodbye, so be it. Joe might not want anything to do with Nicky anymore. Fine. He still needed guidance. 

Quynh was right; this was happening. Otherwise, why else would she and Andy be seeing the same things Nicky saw? Why would they know what Joe’s mother looked like, or what the parrot jokes were referencing? Joe hadn’t left an indelible mark on their lives. If it wasn't his time, if their dreams were just run-of-the-mill visions caused by tired minds, surely those minds would have chosen images with more meaning: Quynh’s family as she outlived them, or Lykon. 

The city felt like it was getting smaller; caving in on Nicky from all sides. The air grew very thin, and every odor he hadn’t noticed before assaulted his nose and threatened to distract him from his goal. It was as if the entire world had become uglier. Nicky scoured every alleyway, shadow, gutter, and filth-littered corner. He wanted to shout Joe’s name; but he knew that would only make things worse. 

If Joe truly hated him, he’d run as soon as he heard Nicky’s voice. 

If he didn’t, Nicky’s cries may attract more attention. 

Nicky shuddered at the thought of the wrong person witnessing Joe heal. 

Joe wasn’t some freak to be caged up and studied! Nicky wasn’t letting that happen!! 

——————————————————————————————————————————

In a way, the fight couldn’t have gone any better. It took Joe’s mind off of how lonely he was; how badly he missed having someone around who kept him level-headed. He had to give his full attention to the man in front of him. 

This man was surprisingly unhinged for a gentleman. Joe thought he might be trying to impress his date. Did she look impressed? 

Not really. She was screaming into the night air for help. 

Eventually, Joe lost his footing and fell to the ground. He swore he could hear a crack when his head hit the stones, and something warm was settling behind his ears and running down the back of his neck. His adversary wasn’t done, though. 

Joe put his arm up to protect what was left of his face. Honestly, there weren’t many places on his person that weren’t bruised or bleeding. Still, if he was to die, he wanted to leave behind a semi-attractive corpse. 

It was the least he could do for whoever had the decency to take his body off the streets. 

Damn, Joe felt so tired. As the warmth spread behind him, he was tempted to drift off. His vision went dark around the edges. Could it be that this was all in his head? The warmth might as well be ocean water carrying him off to some distant shore. 

If he wasn’t in so much pain, he’d believe that. 

The man reared back, ready to continue his attack, when something caught his attention. Another voice, too faint for Joe to make out, spooked him enough to send him running. 

Coward, Joe cursed him, get back here and finish the job. 

Could the night get worse? Oh, it was about to. 

Perhaps due to what Joe knew now was a serious head injury, his dreams were now manifesting while he was awake. 

Why else would Nicky be here, holding his hand and crying as he drifted away? 

——————————————————————————————————————————

“He’s fine.” 

“No, he isn’t!” 

“Andromache, tell Nicky he’s fine.” 

“Listen to Quynh.” 

“It shouldn’t be taking this long. Why isn’t he waking up?!” 

“Hey, it took YOU all night! You think I enjoyed waiting?” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Quynh didn’t mean to be insensitive.” 

“I know she didn’t. It’s not the same for you two.” 

“Believe it or not, we understand. It never gets easier, watching someone you love die; even when you know it won’t last long.” 

“I…God, Andromache, I’m petrified…” 

“It shouldn’t be much longer, now. You’ll see.” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

The last thing Joe wanted to do was wake up. 

Waking up hadn’t been part of the plan, and it was just plain unfair. He was dead, end of story. Unless he’d imagined the agony in his head, the loss of vision, and the sensation of his own blood soaking into his clothes, he should not currently be subjected to another unwanted new day. 

Yet, there it was; burning through his eyelids. The color was such a cheerful yellow it almost made Joe vomit. 

No, he wasn’t opening his eyes. The sun could taunt him all it wanted. Its rays may be strong but the power of his denial was stronger. 

As expected, somebody had collected his body last night and brought it indoors. Some poor mortician was about to get the fright of his life. 

Joe decided against intentionally scaring whomever discovered he was still alive. 

Damn. The power of his denial wasn’t so strong after all. 

Alright, fine. 

Joe opened his eyes, then immediately closed them again when he saw the man asleep in the chair next to him. Absolutely no, he wasn’t giving his mind the satisfaction! This was cruelty! It was bad enough that he had to see Nicky when he slept, he was NOT going to put himself through the same thing when he was awake! 

He would have Nicky back, real and in the flesh, or he would never see him again. 

Joe wasn’t going to settle for a fabrication. Fabrications couldn’t hold him the way the real Nicky had. 

“Nicky,” was that Andromache’s voice? “It’s good to see you resting finally.” 

“What? Oh! Trust me, it was an accident.” 

“Sure it was. He looks better, today. His color’s back.” 

Oh. 

OH. 

“Stop trying to make me feel better.”

OH!! 

“Nicky?” Joe opened his eyes again. This wasn’t a hallucination! It wasn’t fake! Either the world had ended and everyone (immortal and otherwise) was dead, or…but, no. Why was Nicky back?! Why was Andromache here? Where was Quynh? 

Why was Nicky back?!? 

“Joe?” Nicky sounded so hopeful. He looked awful, like Death made flesh. 

My Love, Joe wanted to scold him, you haven’t been sleeping either, have you? 

Neither of them noticed when Andromache slipped out of the room. If they had, they wouldn’t have let her live down the expression of absolute relief on her face. 

“What…what are you doing here?!” Joe asked. It had to be a coincidence. What business did Nicky have in France? Was he staying? Would he stay if Joe asked him to? 

“Something…something told us to come here.” Nicky’s voice shook. “Neither of us could explain it. We just knew we had to be in France, in this city. Joe, I…” he took a moment to collect himself, “I’m sure you have questions. The first time, when I came back, I…all I wanted was…it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be fine. Your wounds are healed.” 

“I put all that together already. I guess I won’t be dying anytime soon.” 

“No, you won’t.” There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Nicky spoke again. “Joe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left, or I should have come back sooner. I tried to find you!! Everywhere we went, I looked for you!!” 

“I looked for you, too.” Joe addressed the elephant in the room. “When you…when you leave again, because I know I’m not part of the plan anymore, I won’t—“

“No!” Joe startled at the desperation in Nicky’s voice. “No, I’m done leaving you! Look, we’re the same now! There’s no reason…unless you don’t want—“ 

“I want you.” 

Those three words cemented their future. The same thing had happened on a little fishing boat, once. Back when they’d been nothing more than a renegade crusader and a semi-freed genie, they’d made a promise to each other. That promise had been broken. This one never would be. There was nothing else to say on the matter. 

“I love you.” Nicky whispered. 

“I love you, too.” Joe felt all the broken pieces of himself mend at the same time. 

“It’s funny,” Nicky offered a smile Joe knew would only ever be directed at him, “as much as I love watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake.” 

“Bed head?” Humor was one of those things they’d always share. 

Nicky shook his head, in awe at how easily everything came back. “Nicely tousled.” 

The universe would try to part them, again. Over and over, it would throw things to try and keep Nicky and Joe apart; more deaths, more battles, more changes. 

Whether through destiny, prophecy, or unwavering stubbornness, they’d stay together. 

They’d always stay together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF you wanna see some history hyjinx, stick around! I have some fun stuff planned for about 3-4 filler chapters. If not, I hope you enjoyed this story! I will be writing another one very soon; this time centered around Booker (I know...I know.)
> 
> Thank you all for your support! I LOVED writing this so much!


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